


The Path of an Arrow, Loosed

by Lurx



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Ancient Arlathan, F/F, F/M, Multi, Polyamory, Teacher-Student Relationship, anyone who read The Masked Empire knows what's coming, evaneuris, guess which god is which!, marked nsfw chapters for the sinners, non-con elements far in the future, will mark nsfw chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-05-06 11:28:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5415098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lurx/pseuds/Lurx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once a century, the Evaneuris gather to discuss the future of The People and present their accomplishments of the past age. With that much ego packed into one building, no Centennial Conference ever has passed entirely without incident. So it isn’t until many an age later that this one is recognized for the cataclysm it is. It’s funny how the beginning of the end looks surprisingly similar to the middle.</p>
<p>“We can train for thousands of years and calculate the winds and predict movements. But a lot can happen between the bow and whatever an arrow hits first. We were never really in control of this situation.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_His field of focus shifted up the arrow’s shaft to iridescent black fletching. Raven feather fletching. The same kind that were in his own Quiver right now. He wondered if the tips were the same too. Yet the tip of this arrow in front of his face was nowhere to be seen. His brow furrowed and he felt an odd, burning stiffness just above his right eyebrow; something pulling at the skin there, preventing it from moving naturally._

_Confused, he touched at the hindered spot on his forehead. It was, unsurprisingly, wet from the downpour they had been fighting in all morning. However, it had a different consistency than rainwater. His fingers brushed against something protruding and rigid. The arrow shifted slightly and rain shook loose from the fletching into his eye._

_A faraway “oh” escaped his throat. So that’s where the tip was…_

__________

Solas shook the image out of his mind as he stepped through the Eluvian. His memories were loud today. Normally he was more than focused enough to keep his thoughts trapped within his own head, today they slipped his defences.

There were places in the crossroads where the fade permeated through to bleed into the mortal world. It was in these places that vague, shadowy spirits half-formed then dissipated in a weak effort to recreate unwanted thoughts.

Perhaps it was the tense and somewhat tedious circumstance of the Centennial Conference that distracted him so. Perhaps he dreaded another three months of trying, and mostly failing, to prove he was still relevant to The People. Perhaps he anticipated the unease that steadily grew between him and those he once held more dearly than his blood kin. Or perhaps it was the roughly 120 pounds of quivering canine in his arms.

He sighed and sunk calming fingers into the wolf’s black, wiry mane, scratching just behind the base of his skull. It stilled his tremors for a moment at least.

Banise had to know the effects he would suffer when he entered the crossroads. He, along with a number of his siblings, often followed their master through Eluvians. However, he was the only one who would, without fail, collapse into a nervous, quivering wreck not ten feet in; forcing Solas to hoist the (considerably large) beast into his arms and carry him the rest of the way. Yet his repeated experience never seemed to dampen his resolve to follow. Thankfully, a few minutes in fresh air always seemed to chase away whatever sickness or terror the crossroads caused.

The Arlathan Forum favored an open, sparsely walled architecture that allowed air to blow freely through. Greenery feigned as though it were invading.

After all the measures they had taken to cast nature out from their lives, it was now in fashion to let it encroach once more in small, measured doses: vines crawling up the freestanding arches, engineered to constantly be in bloom; a beautiful but contrived waterfall parted on either side of the Eluvian, fed by a massive reservoir dug miles away and out of sight.

As much indignance as Solas felt at this bleached and romanticized vision of wilderness, the carefully calculated mist from the waterfall paired with the flower-scented breeze did always feel welcoming and warm no matter the circumstance of his visit.

He stepped a ways from the Eluvian before gently placing Banise on the mossy landing beside the waterfall.

Few creatures besides elves were truly comfortable in the crossroads, or any of the in-between places, but poor Banise seemed to have a much worse and much more pathetic reaction than others. While many animals panicked and ran or snapped defensively, Banise seemed to just resign himself to misery. Which made it very hard to be cross with him even when he had been instructed to stay behind and disobeyed.

It was easier to be angry with his brother.

A second, earthy, autumn-colored wolf stepped through the Eluvian a few moments later. This one held her head high and walked on steady legs before heavily planting herself beside Solas and staring steadfastly ahead; refusing to look at him.

Solas looked expectantly at the Eluvian behind them. When no ripple came he arched his eyebrow at the copper wolf, “Interesting strategy.”

The wolf huffed air through her nose but paid him no mind.

“Oh, please tell me my eyes deceive me.” A snippy voice clipped through the dull roar of falling water. Two women were approaching from down the open-air hall. One, Valoriel, slender-limbed with a heart-shaped face and round features that were currently pursed and tense. she moved with boggling efficiency yet it was clearly not without effort. Her long raven curls bounced in step with her quick, tight strides.

The other, Ghellise, strode in long steps on heavily muscled thighs, her square face was built with more angles than Valoriel’s but it somehow settled more casually on her skull. Her skin was tanned and rough like a durable but still very supple doeskin leather. She had Prominent, round, amber eyes. Her hair was the same color and had recently been shorn to her ears and brushed back from her face.

“Please tell me I am looking at a heartbroken man bringing his beloved, dead beasts to be pelted in memoriam.” Valoriel’s face was reddening by the second.

Ghellise flinched incredulously “That’s harsh even for you, Val-”

“That is not my title.” Valoriel snapped, flicking a silencing finger in front of Ghelise’s face.

“Void swallow me whole, not you too.” Solas rolled his eyes as he stood to greet his fellow rulers of the free world.

It had started with Sorion, who accidentally dubbed himself “Elgar’nan” Spirit of Vengeance as a warning to the few remaining Tyrants. Admittedly, it had been quite the scene; Tall, bronze, massive Sorion greeting the Tyrant scout just outside the gates to Arlathan, dragging the severed heads of five failed assassins attached to a heavy chain in his fist. When the scout tried to flee, Sorion paralyzed him, chained the heads around his shoulders, and said only this: “The only name your people will call me is Vengeance. I do not negotiate. I do not absolve. I do not forget. I decimate.” before releasing the scout to deliver his grisly message.

It was understandable how the people had become enamored with the spectacle and forsook the man for the legend.

It was only at Mythal’s behest that he allowed The People to refer to him as such. It made them feel safe and powerful. Though he never looked fully comfortable when one of his own called him by his title.

Yedor, however, slid into his moniker like silk sheets. “Dirthamen” He Who Bestows Much Needed Truths. Supposedly it started after he designed and built the Vir Dirthara library, scholars began referring to him thusly. However, it was many an age before Solas heard anyone besides Yedor utter the word.

Solas found few instances where the practice could be called anything but self-indulgent to say the least. His face reflected the sentiment.

Ghellise slipped ahead of Valoriel and pulled Solas into a quick hug, “May as well get this in before the fight starts; good to see you, pup. you won’t win this one. I’ll be over here, fixing your pets.”

“They are not my-” Solas began to call after Ghellise as she beat a swift retreat.

The finger that had been silencing Ghellise was now turned accusingly at Solas.

“It’s not a bad thing to be recognized for and embrace the role you play in people’s lives. It lets them know that you recognize your responsibility to them. Responsibility, Solas. I know it’s an abstract concept to you and your mountaintop menagerie.” Valoriel jutted her chin at the wolf Ghellise was pouring healing magic into; simultaneously wagging his tail and vomiting prolifically on his stoic companion’s paws. “But it matters down here with the rest of the world.” Valoriel crossed her arms pointedly.

Solas sighed in defeat. More because he would rather not expend the considerable energy it took to argue with Valoriel. Especially not with his current audience. “Alright, alright, what are we supposed to be calling you this century?”

Valoriel straightened her back, held her chin high, and said matter-of-factly, “Sylaise.”

Solas’ eyes rolled so far into his head it obscured his vision.

“Oh for the love of-”

“It’s fitting!”

“Patron of life fire? It’s grandiose to the point of parody.”

Behind him, Ghellise barked a triumphant laugh, “That’s exactly what I said!”

“It was the invention of the age and I have every right to be proportionally proud of -” Valoriel stopped herself, took a deep breath, and regained her composure.

“Opinions on taste aside,” Valoriel tersely whispered, “This is a public forum, and, as such, a little propriety would be greatly appreciated.”

“As you wish, Sylaise.” Solas said with an extravagant bow, “I am still allowed to address you directly, am I not? Or shall I simply ready myself for the ensuing flogging?”

“Keep it up you funny, funny, man, you.” Valoriel shook her head but failed to keep the smile out of her voice, “Next Conference we’ll all drink to the cleverest dead man we ever knew.”

“Please, they need me.” Solas scoffed as he straightened from his bow, “I’m the only thing keeping these people awake.”

“You… and the Shem’vhen I spike the wine with.”

There was a pause, both of them trying to keep a stern face.

Solas broke first. a grin washing over his face and a laugh forcing its way out of his lungs, luring one out of Valoriel as well. Her features blossomed into a comforting, welcoming joy. She threw her arms around his neck in a genuinely warm embrace, “It is nice to see you again, little brother.” She smiled sweetly as she pulled away, “even if I do want to strangle you.”

“Careful, now,” Solas mockingly warned, “your other ‘brothers’ might take offence these days.”

“Oh they want to strangle you too.” She meant it as a joke but it rang with a little more truth than she wanted.

“I meant with having to share the ‘brother’ status.”

Ghellise rejoined the conversation, brushing wiry black hairs from her leggings, “The twins can get over themselves.” she scoffed, “you’re just as much one of us as they are.”

Valoriel waved a controlled, demure hand as though she were trying to dispel Solas’ suggestion from the very air, “I’m sure they don’t even remember what happened last time-”

Ghellise shook her head and mouthed “they remember”

Solas quirked a dismissive eyebrow. “I know” he mouthed back

“Oh, void take that animal!” Valoriel spat, terse rage puckering her face once more.

She stormed past him to confront the newly rejuvenated Banise, who had carefully perched his front paws on a jutting boulder in the waterfall to let the water crash down his throat while he snapped his teeth at the torrent, flinging water and saliva all over the gilded, polished eluvian. The she-wolf flattened her ears against Valoriel’s screaming but remained rigidly seated at the foot of the Eluvian.

Banise turned briefly toward the sound, the crashing waters flattening his ears on either side of his head. but his attention was short-lived as he returned to his task nearly immediately.

Ghellise strode after her flustered companion but stopped level with Solas’ shoulder.

“Your feud with the twins is dangerously close to being a situation.” She murmured, only just loud enough for him to hear. They locked eyes for a moment. Only just long enough for Ghellise to convey the gravity of her words. Solas’ eyes narrowed in confusion. It was unlike Ghellise to place such weight on political squabbles.

Before their pause could be noticed, Ghellise blinked the darkness from her eyes and continued on to the ensuing commotion. “We’ll speak later.” She said conversationally, “Try not to cause a fuss ‘till then.”

No sooner had she finished speaking that the Eluvian rippled once more and a third, tawny-gray wolf burst from it. It very nearly bowled the she-wolf over with the force of it’s submissive, apologetic nuzzling and licking.

Valoriel was beside herself. “No. No. NO!” She whirled on Solas, red-faced and shoulders hunched. “We get it, your Illusion spell is very impressive, They think you’re one of them with all their stunted little hearts. It is less impressive when they destroy all our furniture and piss on people’s legs. I am not having a repeat of last conference! Get. A. New.Trick.”

“I must admit, pup, the same spell two centuries in a row?” Ghellise shook her head, “Disappointing.”

A smirk crept across Solas’ face. “Oh, They’re not here with me.”

Valoriel pinched the bridge of her nose, “I swear I have zero tolerance left for your horseshit-”

“They’re with me, tarlan.” A sudden and new voice chimed from beside her.

Valoriel recoiled in shock when she discovered a tall, willowy, autumn-colored woman sitting where there was once a she-wolf. The tawny wolf, however, scarcely seemed to notice any change at all and continued to whine and lick at the woman’s mouth.

“Enough, Rasha.” She growled at the wolf. Rasha tucked his tail between his legs and slunk off to join his brother in the waterfall.

“Might I present to you my apprentice. She will be accompanying me to this Centennial Conference.”

The woman rose to properly greet the pair of royals.

“Kharis. Of the Ise’Man’vir lineage. It is an honor to meet you, Sylaise.” She said with a dimpled smile and a deep bow. “My family would have suffered terrible losses if not for your HearthFire. You gifted us with one of the first prototypes. There were many cruel winters that threatened the workers in our care. We owe you the lives of our beloved laborers as well as our own livelihood.”

The whole display was perfectly timed. She averted her eyes just long enough to be proper but blinked them back into contact with Valoriel’s before she risked seeming meek. The bow was low and sustained but not exaggeratedly so. When she straightened again, she waited patiently but not expectantly for a response.

For a moment, Valoriel looked as though she might be angry at this unexpected guest. However, the moment quickly passed when presented with praise. “You owe me nothing, dear,” she said wistfully, “the knowledge that I helped is enough.”

“Oh she is good.” Ghellise murmured to Solas, mildly impressed.

Kharis turned swiftly on Ghellise. The briefest flash of something predatory flickered across her eyes. The look of prowling cat when it only just has seen the flick of a mouse’s tail. But only a flash before it was gone and replaced with a well-rehearsed but convincing look of confident respect.

She bowed again but it was a short bend at the waist; a formality that was hindering important conversation. “Apologies, tarlan, but if you have a name other than Ghellise, I do not know it.” This time Kharis kept her eyes locked on Ghellise’s, “Though, when your name already invokes such an image, I imagine any other could only pale in comparison.”

Ghellise smirked. She was intrigued but preferred to present a challenge.

“And what image does my name conjure, sweet girl?” Ghellise presented her with a mild challenge. Nothing earnestly hostile, just a test of her skill.

Kharis readily embraced it with a ghost of a smirk bleeding through her sweet smile.

“One of wisdom that has been well-earned.” She answered steadfastly, “Through years and ages and hardships and sheer brute tenacity.”

Ghellise tilted her head back in delighted surprise, “Not of power nor beauty nor skill?” she challenged further.

“Apologies again, tarlan,” Kharis said but did not avert her eyes, “but in your immediate presence, such things seemed redundant to mention.”

Ghellise let slip a bark of genuine laughter.

“Oh but she is very good…” She said to Solas.

He grinned and nodded, “She is. Not only has she mastered the full sensory illusion, but she has improved upon it. You’ll notice that it even fooled your trained eye. I even know what I’m looking at and it still fools me.”

Kharis gracefully smiled and accepted the praise, hands clasped behind her back. Ghellise nodded as she studied the girl. “Full sensory illusion, is it?” Ghellise addressed Kharis directly, “this includes scent as well?”

Kharis nodded. “And touch and taste.” she clarified, “To any living thing, there is no evidence to suggest I am anything but what I appear to be. Which is, unfortunately, why I could not greet you earlier.” She nodded over to Rasha, whose guilt seemed to already be forgotten as he slapped at his brother’s nose and bowed low, enticing play. “One of my own lost his way. If my scent were to vanish he may never have found his way back.”

“That was a bold gamble, Kharis.” Solas said with a hint of scolding to his voice, “There was no way to know if he would follow you or simply disappear and never return.”

“With all due respect, Hahren,” Kharis purred, her smile respectful but her eyes less so, “I know my wolves. If they followed me in. They were always going to follow me out.”

Solas smirked but quickly deflected the conversation before his esteemed peers had time to register the subtle challenge to his authority. “Well you and your wolves can go settle in to your apartment.”

He glanced at Valoriel before adding, “try to avoid anyone who is dressed too well.”

Kharis nodded and turned to Ghellise and Valoriel again. “I hope we may speak more during my stay.” She said with a polite bow.

“Of course, darling. come to me with any questions you might have.” Valoriel smiled sweetly.

“Yes. Feel free to visit my apartment any time as well.” Ghellise said very nearly innocently.

Kharis winked the eye Valoriel couldn’t see. But Solas could. She briefly quirked an eyebrow at him before cloaking herself in the copper wolf again. She roused Banise and Rasha from the waterfall and led them at a gallop down the open archway.

The three Evaneuris walked at a more leisurely pace toward the Central Meeting Hall.

“So,” Ghellise threw an arm around Solas’ shoulders, which stood considerably lower than her own, “how are you going to cope with the fact that your apprentice is about to show you up at the Compendium?”

“Kharis is very talented at many things.” Solas mused coolly, “but I still have much to teach her.” Ghellise opened her mouth to suspect where these lessons were taking place when Valoriel suddenly chimed in, “OH! speaking of the Compendium!”

She reached into the pouch inside the lapel of her robes and fished out two small, unclosed links of an odd metal that reflected light at unpredictable angles. Embedded in each one was a tiny gemstone engraved with a different rune. Individually, the devices were no larger than a lemon seed.

“They didn’t quite make the cut, but Garros seems to think they’re at least ready for first-round testing!” Valoriel preened as she handed one to each of them.

Ghellise examined the device in her hand, “Are these… oh! Did he finally manage to make the rocks smaller?”

“Speaking stones, Ghellise.” Valoriel corrected as she turned a corner into one of the inner hallways. “And yes, these are whisper stones.”

“Maybe now Solas will actually remember his when he goes out.” Ghellise remarked.

“I will have you know that I actually do have my stone with me today-” Solas patted at his hip and chest, checking his pockets. When he found them all empty he breezed into his next point: “But these are so small I’d lose them in an instant.”

He rolled the device between his thumb and forefinger, appreciating the way the gem refracted light at different angles, yet the engraved rune was somehow clearly readable from all of them, and at a surprisingly far distance.

“No, you see, that’s why my husband is brilliant-” Valoriel gushed as she tucked her hair behind her ear. A whisper stone hung pierced through her pinnae. Solas recoiled in disgust but Ghellise seemed intrigued.

“It’s attached…”

“It’s attached?!”

“I don’t even remember it’s there anymore.” Valoriel tittered, “It’s the easiest device I own; I never have to recharge it’s mana, I never-”

“-take it off because it is embedded in your person” Solas interrupted in disdain, “I appreciate the craftsmanship, Val, but-”

“Sylaise!”

“But I would prefer not to have a Stone listening to literally everything I do. Or whispering to me at all hours…”

“It’s not like the Speakers, it can be deactivated!” Valoriel insisted, “and you must grant permission before the other stone can hear anything.”

“If it’s so great why isn’t this Garros’s submission?” Ghellise asked dryly.

Valoriel absently adjusted her lapels while she came up with a positive way to say, “They have some… interesting quirks.”

“Interesting how?” Ghellise squinted suspiciously.

“ ‘Conducive gauntlet’ interesting where your fingernails fall off?” Solas reminded her.

“Or are we talking ‘irrefutable pillowcase’ tongue-tastes-like-cilantro-for-a-year interesting?”

“Or elemental belt interesting?”

“I pissed rainbows that month, Val.”

“I wish rainbows were all I pissed that month.”

“Alright, fine,” Valoriel huffed, turning to face them, “sometimes It makes your teeth tingle and it occasionally sings, and sometimes it thinks someone is trying to make contact when nobody really is but I swear, no change to bodily fluids or tissues, no sustained sensations,  and it doesn’t move of its own volition… anymore.”

Solas and Ghellise studied the devices a moment longer, glanced at each other, shrugged.

“What does it sing?” Ghellise asked.

“It seems to be randomized from whatever Garros was listening to.” Valoriel ceded.

“What is the most annoying song it sings?” Solas asked suspiciously.

“….. Ahn’Tuash Da’Vher…”

“The whole song?”

“Only sometimes!”

“I’m out.” Ghellise shook her head and placed the device back in Valoriel’s hand, “I’ll give it a try when next I feel like punishing myself, but that is not this day.”

Valoriel spluttered as Ghellise kissed her once on the forehead and made off down the hall. “I have to change before tonight. See you at Commencement” She called over her shoulder as she disappeared down the residential corridor, leaving Solas unsupported when he, too, returned the device.

“I like Garros, really I do,” Solas prefaced his next statement, “But after the ise’jul incident, I think I’ve suffered enough for his inventions.”

He hugged her before she could present a rebuttal. “I will ensure the wolves are occupied for the Commencement. Ar lath ma, Give Garr my best.” He spoke quickly as he followed Ghellise down the residential corridor.

Left without anyone to voice her complaints to, Valoriel huffed and traced her husband’s rune over her ear with her finger

“No luck, I’m afraid.” She sighed sadly to seemingly no one at all, “Well, I admitted it wasn’t perfect yet, but they seemed intrigued! I think once all this fuss is over they’d be open to-…… noooooo, no, no, they liked it, they did! it’s just that poor Sol doesn’t have the stomach for-………. alright, yes, it was the cat song….”

________________________________________

Solas found Ghellise leaning against the door to his designated apartment, talking with Kharis, who was leaning against the the adjacent door to her own apartment.

When Kharis noticed him coming down the hall she smiled brightly and brandished her own, full-sized speaking stone at him. “I just spoke with Mammae!” She called, “They’ve checked in to their suite in town. Both our rooms seem to be in order, the boys are under a sleep spell- it should last until at least tomorrow- Is there anything else you need or…”

A mild but sharp pang bit at his heart as Solas realized she still thought she needed his permission to leave. “Of course, of course” he waved his hand, shooing her on, “Go on. Take a few days. This first week is nothing but formalities anyway.”

Kharis chuckled as she closed her door fully. “You can’t seriously expect me to miss Commencement, hahren.” She locked the door and bowed to Ghellise, “Thank you for the company, tarlen.”

“Please, sweet girl, call me ‘Ghel.’ You are my brother’s honored guest, and therefore mine as well.” Ghellise offered.

Kharis smiled and offered a hand instead, “Thank you, Ghel.”

Ghellise gave her a firm handshake and returned her smile, though it quickly slipped into the mischievous face she made when she knew she had thought of something vulgar and clever. Solas braced himself.

“Besides, you’ll stroke enough ego here to give you carpal tunnel…” Ghellise smirked, “best to save it for when you need it.”

“I am fortunate enough to be gifted with two hands, ma tarlan, the real struggle will be remembering which one is for shaking and which one is for stroking.” Kharis shot back without a second’s thought. She breezed past Ghellise and nodded a quick bow to Solas, “I’ll be back before sundown, hahren.”

Ghellise grinned widely as she watched Kharis bounce happily down the hall and out of sight.

“She is a delight.” Ghellise stated.

“She is very charismatic.” Solas nodded coolly.

“And smart.” Ghellise continued.

“She has learned quickly.”

“And cute.”

“What is this situation with the twins, Ghel?”

Ghellise sighed as the ugly subject chased the smile from her face. She glanced down either end of the corridor, listening for any movement. When all was still, she leaned in close and spoke in hushed tones.

“This is all bits and pieces of overheard conversation and shorthand notes and books I see lying about but-” she prefaced, “Yedor’s been digging around in murder laws and…” she hesitated and fiddled with the cuffs of her sleeves. “Hador’s been researching poisons.”

The two regarded each other for a long moment while Solas ruminated on the subtext Ghellise was presenting him with. Solas shook his head in disbelief. “No… No they wouldn’t-” he chuckled at the darkly entertaining circumstance, “Of all the times Yedor and I have gotten into a spat… If he was going to kill me, it would have been over Shani. We were far more cross with each other over her.”

“I want to be wrong about this.” Ghellise offered, “and maybe I am. but there’s enough of a chance that I’m right-”

“You really think they’d murder me over an argument?”

“A public argument.” Ghellise reminded him, “A public argument in the middle of the Forum. You called him a liar to his face.”

_“He was lying!”_

“So are we all!” Ghellise snapped, “It’s just been so long that everyone forgot. We forgot. We were never qualified for this! But if The People knew that, all it would cause is a panic and that’s exactly what Yedor has on his hands now. You pulled the rug out from under them, Sol, People are frightened.”

Solas threw his hands in incredulity. “So we feed them lies to keep them calm? Dying should frighten them!” His voice came out louder than he wanted. The sound probably didn’t even breach the doors they stood in front of, but even so, discretion was always of dire importance in The Arlathan Forum. Even when murder wasn’t the topic of discussion.

“I’m not saying I agree with him..” Ghellise tersely whispered after she was sure they were still alone, “I’m saying that if we aren’t united, everything crumbles. And from where the twins are sitting, you’re the dividing factor here. So no, I don’t think they’d commit murder over hurt pride. But honestly… they might to keep The Evaneuris united. Even if the process would shrink our numbers.”

Solas took a deep breath and clasped a frustrated hand over his eyes. The more he thought about the twins in the context of the men they were now rather than the men he had known a millennia ago, the more plausible Ghellise’s suspicions became. He released his breath slowly through his nose.

“Look, perhaps I’m just being gruesome.” Ghellise suggested hopefully, “but, I thought you should know, at least…” Solas nodded and waved his other hand dismissively. A gesture communicating ‘don’t worry about it.’ He thought for a moment longer before he dropped both hands to his hips and asked, “Have you told anyone else?”

Ghellise shook her head, “No. If I’m right then they’ll be paying close attention to talk that floats around. I didn’t want them getting spooked before I had a chance to warn you.”

“Thank you, Ghel.” Solas said wearily, “We’ll keep this between us for now. No use crying wolf when all we’ve found are hairs… would it be too much to ask-”

“I set five agents to keep eyes on you and anyone you brought with you before you even arrived.” Ghellise interrupted with a smirk, “They think they’re looking for clues to your Compendium presentation but they know how to spot a lurker and dispense them. Your apprentice is covered.”

Solas smiled warmly at her. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” Ghellise grinned as she slapped him bracingly on the shoulder, “I’m just gathering info so I can dazzle her with all our shared interests later.”

“I fear you lack all her favorite parts, dear sister” Solas quipped.

“You have first-hand knowledge of her preferences do you?”

“I am certain I don’t know what you mean.”


	2. 2

_“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I didn’t… I thought you were- Oh fuck I’m sorry!” The voice was familiar but so far away. He rolled his eyes toward the source of the sound but black fletching obscured his vision. Annoying. He raised a clumsy hand to grasp the shaft of the arrow. It was curious that his fingers were red. “No! leave it!” A lightning quick hand closed around his wrist and wrenched it away. Who is? The motion transferred down the shaft and snapped his skull to the side. “oh shit it’s deep…” The voice, Calan. He tried again to look at the face, but it refused to come into focus. “It’ll be fine.” Calan breathed, “It’ll be fine! I just… we just have to…”  Wasn’t it too early to be this dark? His mouth felt dry, though his skin was wet and clammy. His own voice came from somewhere far behind him.  
Am I dying?_

_  
_—————————————————————————————————-

Solas watched the subtle pulse in Kharis’s neck quicken. It was the only indication that she had heard him at all. She didn’t even look away from the mirror when he told her of Ghelise’s suspicions.

“I would not blame you for returning home.” He continued, rising from the foot of the bed. Banise groggily opened one eye when the mattress shifted but the spell dragged him under once more. Rasha may as well have been stuffed if not for the fact that “belly up, limbs lax, tongue out” was not a trophy pose Solas had ever seen before.

“Any threat against me, could very well extend to you. It is not your responsibility to face such dangers.”

Kharis laughed and closed her silken robes over her small, bare breasts. “I’m beginning to think you don’t want me here, hahren.” she chided, tying the fastenings at her flank.

Solas cringed, “Ugh. There’s no need to address me so when we’re alone.”

Kharis, satisfied with the arrangement of her clothing, turned from the mirror and locked eyes with him. “Then don’t talk like I should frighten like a child.” her voice started calm but drifted into a harsher tone, “I came to witness the Conference and I intend to witness all of it. If I wanted the clean version, I’d retake Elementary Civics.”

In her newly tailored robes and delicate metalwork along her wrists and neck, she looked every bit as imposing as she saw herself. In most respects, she did live up to her own expectations; but Solas doubted her grasp of how quickly a rumor could turn into a funeral.

He sighed, “The pendant actually hangs in the back.” and strode over to adjust the intricate loops of thin chain and finely cut stone around her neck.

“At the very least” he began, shifting the complex web of metal across her clavicle, “keep Banise and Rasha with you. If I am called away for whatever reason, at least you have allies should you need them.”

“Your esteemed sister will be thrilled to see them again.” Kharis quipped dryly.

“As long as they’re within dress code, I’m sure Val will get over it.” Solas muttered.

Kharis puffed a small laugh through her nose, “I just wish you had told me sooner, Mammae and I could have taken them to be fitted.”

“How are your parents?” he asked idly as he slipped the central pendant over her shoulder and laid it gently against the middle of her spine. “Did they manage to find suitable lodging or shall I call in a favor?”

“I didn’t see where they were staying but you should ask them about it over dinner.” Kharis suggested as she fixed her hair in the mirror over Solas’ shoulder.

Solas paused and processed the suggestion along with how best to respond. “Dinner… with your parents… and myself…” He repeated in a slow, deliberate tone, “I don’t… It’s just I’m not sure if that’s… Is there something you need to tell me?” It was only when he moved to earnestly look her in the eyes that he noticed the mischief there.

“They’ll be attending commencement. They were elected to represent the lineage,” She clarified.

Laughter bubbled in her cheeks when he sighed in relief. “Do you enjoy it? My suffering?” He asked wearily. A wry smile tugged on his lips.

“I find it amusing:” Kharis wrapped her arms around his waist and breathed in his ear,” Amid death threats, wild beasts, and the ravages of war, it’s the dreaded ‘Dinner with the Parents’ that frightens you so.” She gently pulled at the tip of his ear with her teeth and pressed herself against his chest.

Solas sighed as the heat from her body bled through their clothes to his skin. He pondered how much better these robes would look sliding off her shoulders and crumpled at her feet. “Believe me,” he growled, pulling her hips tight against his, “If they knew what we do some nights, they’d have just as much murderous intent as anyone.”

“My memory fails me. Remind me again of these dastardly deeds we commit,” Kharis purred, trailing her fingertips just inside the lapel of his robes, grazing his skin.

Despite the warmth spreading from her touch, the seafoam green sky was darkening to a deep emerald on the horizon. So, with a generous application of willpower, Solas gently guided Kharis’ hand out of his robes and kissed the inside of her wrist as he stepped back.

“Alas,” he sighed, “that will have to wait until later. I only just got my hair to behave and if I arrive disheveled the twins will be the least of my worries.”

Kharis chuckled and tucked a stray lock of his auburn hair into place before striding over to the sleeping wolves on her bed. “Perhaps then Tarlen Sylaise won’t care so much about the boys being there.” she called over her shoulder as she waved the sleep spell from their eyes.

Solas rolled his eyes as he cloaked himself in invisibility. “I am never going to call her that.” his disembodied voice spat before he slipped out onto the balcony and climbed over to his own, designated apartment. Thusly, when they each exited their respective doors a few minutes later, no passing maintenence crew gave them a second glance.  
—————————————————————————————————-

The meeting hall could more accurately be described as a porch. Intricately carved pillars supported a lattice covering half of the space while the rest of the floor to the north was open to the warm sea air. The exterior landing extended out from the cliffside into a point. There, a raised platform with a sound-amplifying dome housed a small orchestra that played instrumental versions of popular songs. Pale floating orbs cast artificial moonlight on the dance floor while smaller, blue ones followed the servants distributing drinks and food, only extinguishing when their trays were empty.

Flowering vines wove themselves through the overhead lattice, dropping delicate, flavored petals onto the churning mass of people below. They added a light floral taste to any glasses they happened to land in.

Every lineage sent one bonded pair to represent them at the Centennial Conference. From laborers to land barons to artists to scholars, all of them mingled in the open space. There were sitting spaces arranged throughout for people’s comfort but it was uncouth to stay in one place for too long. Not to mention, if you were from one of the more populous countries like Eral’Durnatha (Serpent’s rest), The Tiraas’han (the edge of the earth), The Varalaan (The place they left), or, recently, Targen’i’man (where the mountain meets the sea), then getting any face time with an Evaneuris was an active struggle.

Spirits drifted through the crowd, occasionally stopping to make conversation but mostly content to observe from the edges of a group before moving on. Tiny wisps lingered around anyone whose mood was exuberant enough; flirting around giggling inebriates, angrily wizzing around impassioned arguments, rhythmically swaying amongst whirling bodies on the dancefloor, illuminating heated glances over wine, playfully bouncing around Rasha’s snout, just out of reach of his snapping teeth.

Rasha and Banise sat at either side of Kharis, stubbornly wedging themselves between her and anyone intending to stand next to her at the bar. Including Solas. Both wolves wore fine silk scarves tied in elegant knots and braids around their neck.

“No, no, I promise you, Lady Ter’prean,” Kharis assured a woman who  flinched at every near miss of Rasha’s jaws on the wisp’s ghostly tail, “This isn’t aggresion. He just wants to know what it is.”

“By eating the poor thing?” the Esteemed Lady cried.  
“No, of course not!” Kharis chuckled, pointedly charming.  
‘Actually, in a way-” Solas began but Kharis continued before he could upset Lady Ter’prean further.  
“You see, unlike us, he has no way to share knowledge with his brothers,” Kharis explained cheerily, “Any knowledge a wolf gains must be built from scratch and can only be understood through sensory input. Thusly, they employ all their senses. Much the same way small children do; every new thing must go directly into the mouth.”

Solas cocked an eyebrow at his wine as he absently swirled it in his glass. He reached into the threads of fade that flowed through Kharis’ mind and wove them into an auditory illusion for her ears only

_Feeling maternal today, are we?_

Kharis continued chattering to the one or two more nobles who had drawn close to examine the wolves, but answered Solas  with an illusion of her own.

_Everyone loves babies, Harusha. The more similarities one can draw between babies and any given thing, the harder it is to hate._

_Just remember how fast they are while you’re presenting your 130 pound toothy babies._

Just then Kharis deftly shifted the crowd’s attention away from Rasha and his careless teeth to Banise instead.

Suddenly, Kharis projected her voice into his ear again,  _Get Ghel’s attention, I see an opening. I think we’ve won it._

Solas tilted his head up to look over the crowd for Ghellise and her slow-moving swarm of nobles.

Targen’i’man had seen a great influx of refugees this age. Laborers and nobles alike had flooded Ghellise’s country seeking to escape the Diminishing Sickness. All of them entering into a lower standing than they had left their home countries with, and keen on returning to their previous status as soon as possible. Which meant sucking up to someone who had little interest in the Political Dance in the first place.

In anticipation of this, Ghellise had struck up conversation with as many spirits as she could, cuccooning herself within them so Nobles could not reach her without having to pass through a spirit first; A sensation most found at least unpleasant.

Even so, some stubbornly stood within the ghostly fog of a spirits body for minutes at a time, turning pale and shaking and stuttering through their shmoozing. Even as Ghellise tried to subtly sneak away, the crowd followed her around the room like she led a snail-paced parade. None would be deterred.

As much sympathy as Solas felt for his friend, there was little he could do to rescue her. So, instead, he and a few others of the Evaneuris placed bets on how many times she would pass the grand fireplace before dinner was announced. She was on her second pass when she got stuck between the horde and a wall. If she could move another twenty feet in the next half hour, Solas won.

Kharis had been right, there was a small gap where one of the younger lineage heads had finally abandoned his post within a spirit body, leaving a gap that Ghellise could slip trhough if she was quick. Other brave, ambitious Heads had taken notice of the vacancy.

 _Kharis sees an opening to your left._ Solas conjured his voice within Ghellise’s head. Through the writhing mass of manicured hair and fine silk robes, he saw Ghellse cringe and glare directly at him as she mouthed  _“get out of my head!”_  
Solas rolled his eyes,  _your window is closing._  
Ghellise slipped deftly through the gap in the spirit’s chest and took a deep breath of non-claustrophobic air.  But it wasn’t even a full beat before a noblewoman greeted her with a sugary-sweet smile “Oh, what fortune that I’ve found you, Ma Tarlen-”

“Solas, Darling, are those wolves? How ticklish!” Ghellise bellowed over the woman and swiftly marched over to them; a wake of people trailing behind her. 

  
As she breezed past the grand fireplace for a third time, Solas shot a smirk across the hall at Valoriel, who had bet on only two passes. She glared back in response and finished her wine as though it were bitter medicine.

A dense crowd had accumulated around Kharis and her wolves. It offered a bit of a barrier between Ghellise and her pursuers when she slipped through the distracted masses to finally arrive at the bar beside Solas like she had just washed ashore.

“You need to start taking some of these leeches.” Ghellise whispered hoarsely as she waved down the drinkmaster. Solas shrugged, “Send them. My borders are open. There is nothing I can do if the higher lineages have no interest in Radalas.”

“Perhaps if you focused on exporting more than rocks and hot air, there would be more noble interest in your bumpkin country.” Ghellise quipped. Radalas was known for its stone quarries and little else. The five primary mining houses had the market tightly controlled and there was little room for newcomers. however, because the wealth was controlled by the elite so tightly, it left most of them with a lot of leisure time. Many spent that time on cultural and philosophical pursuits. Thusly, the joke that Radalas exported only rocks and arguments was born.

“Some might say it is bad form to insult your rescuers.” Solas shot back.

“You know, you are very right, how rude of me. Allow me to fix this- two please.” She took Solas’ empty glass from him and handed it and her own glass to the drinkmaster with a wink, “You know which vint to draw from.” The drinkmaster nodded and set about filling her order.

“Ah, a drink that… would have been free any way…” Solas quirked an eyebrow as the drinkmaster set the newly filled glasses in front of them, “You’re too kind.”

“Aren’t I though?” Ghellise chirped. She deliberately waited for Solas to reach for his glass before she swiped both glasses away and briskly turned to Kharis.

 _Ass._  Solas projected to Ghellise. She noticeably cringed but would not give him the satisfaction of turning to glare.

Kharis smiled and accepted the gift with grace and charm. Halfway through her thanking, a stray noble breached her defenses and called out, “Tarlen Ghel-”

“Lady Ter’Prean” Ghellise roared over the cloying voice. Lady Ter’Prean jumped from the volume. “I hear you’ve been having trouble with Titans as of late.”

The lady snorted bitterly, “Groundhogs are troublesome, ma Tarlen. Titans are a bloody catastrophe. And we’ve had four in our mines this age alone… collapsing passages, leaving their poison blood all over. Some of our laborers were so delirious they swore up and down that they saw tiny little  _people_ come tumbling out of one.”

Solas cocked his head with a bemused smile, “People? Flesh and blood people or-”  
Lady Ter’prean shook her head and rolled her eyes, “Oh, who’s to say? In the next breath they scream about the collapse of the skies and the approaching of the void-”

“Oh? The prophesied void is to descend upon us again?” Ghellise scoffed.

“Well, one figures doomsday prophets will be right eventually…” Lady Ter’Prean quipped casually.

“ah, but they will be wrong so much more often… Just what do they think this void is that it holds such a grudge against us?”

“It is an antiquated concept, I’m afraid.” A pear-shaped, autumn-colored woman deftly slipped her way into the conversation, “Early philosophers speculated that, due to the newly discovered law of motion, everything must have an equal and opposite counterpart-”  
Kharis smiled, recognizing the woman. “Hahren,” she began, politely gesturing toward her, but the philosophy lesson was not over.  
“Thusly, if our world was one of existence and energy, there must also be an opposite; a world of non-existence and stagnation. A void.-”  
Kharis opened her mouth again, but was cut off,  
“Their melancholy was understandable at the time, of course, this was at the height of Tyrant rule. But these days we are of a stable enough climate to see the flaw in their defeatist mentality.”  
“Lady Ise’ma-” Kharis quickly began but this time Solas interjected.  
“Flawed, how?” He asked in a poorly feigned interest. He knew how much it embarrassed Kharis that her parents didn’t perform the steps to the political Dance properly. Solas found it entertaining. “It seems like sound reasoning.” He encouraged.

“ _Well,_ ” The senior Ise’Man’Vir began, casually plucking a wine stem from a passing servant’s tray. She didn’t notice when Ghellise took the opportunity to escape the crowd. “If you were to imagine an archer on a wall, and his task was to hit the farthest mark he could-”

 _void take you both_  Kharis’ voice whispered in Solas’ ear, unheard by anyone else. She took a much larger sip of wine than was proper. Solas kept his attention on the philosopher.

“After he completes his task, he goes to retrieve his arrow, and repeats the feat. And again and again he retrieves his arrow and fires it as far as it will fly but every time he fires his arrow, as long as it lands, as long as it hits something, that means there must be farther for it to go, there is no such thing as nothing-”

“Mother.” Kharis laid a firm hand on the woman’s shoulder, “Might I remind you that you and Tarlen Solas have never actually met in person before.“

Kharis’ mother stared blankly at Solas for a moment, deciding if, indeed, Solas of Radalas was this much shorter than she’d imagined. Realization bloomed red in her cheeks when Kharis nudged her again. She slapped a hand to the side of her head, shocked at her own carelessness. “Forgive me, ma Tarlen, I was so enraptured in the question posed that I didn’t even realize-”

Solas smiled waved a dismissive hand “No offence taken, Lady Ise’Man’Vir. I was equally taken with the answer you were providing.”

She chuckled, “you’re too kind. Before I get carried away again, I am Nehris, Third matron of the Ise’Man’Vir lineage, This is my husband, Cardis, eighth son of the Rad’av lineage-”

Cardis emerged from the crowd like he had always been there but Solas was not sure he had been. He was tall and willowy like Kharis but had a much paler color scheme. His eyes were calculating and cold where his wife’s were distant with wonder and speculation. He smiled only wide enough to be polite when he shook Solas’ hand, and never broke eye contact.  
“A pleasure.” Solas  recited from his usual list of niceties.  
“Same.” Cardis answered at the precise temperature of indoor stone; not abnormally cold, but certainly not warm.

“And, of course, you know our bright, enterprising, Kharis” Nehris gushed, capturing her daughter in a tight hug.  
“Mother, please…” Kharis protested quietly, but there was no graceful way to escape her mother’s grasp.  
“Again, it is so kind of you to take such an interest in our girl,” Nehris ignored her daughters protests and squeezed her tighter, “I hope having an apprentice at Conference isn’t causing you too many complications.

“Quite the opposite.” Solas smiled evenly, “Kharis has been a great help in preparing for the Compendium-”

“And in wrangling your associates, I hear.” A deep, quiet voice lilted through the space, barely louder than a whisper but perfectly clear through the din of the crowd. Hador, tall and broad-shouldered though he was, had silently appeared in the space Ghellise had vacated.

During the Harrilian War, Hador was well-known for his talent in inspiring comraderie, and uniting people for the cause. He took time to personally learn at least the names of any soldier under his command, and speak it out loud when he found their body, if he could do nothing else. He was fierce, and he was vibrant. The energy poured off him in infectious waves, and it was impossible to resist being caught in the undertow of his confidence.

That was still the first Hador that came to mind when Solas heard his voice.

It was not the Hador Solas saw when he looked upon his face.

Now, Hador’s face clung to his frame like a drowning man clung to flotsam; unsure if it would be his strength or his will that abandoned him first, as his hope had done long before. His once velvety dark skin was ashen and dull, and his cheeks were hollow. His pale amber eyes seemed to take great effort to keep open, and dark circles were now permanently affixed below them. However, today someone had wrangled his mane of kinked, wild hair into tight dignified braids and tied them all back from his face. At the very least, he looked put-together, if exhausted.

Even in light of recent suspicions, Solas was relieved to see an attempt at a smile on Hador’s face. Even they had been scant enough in recent ages. Though unease settled in again before too long.

“Might I introduce, Hador of Northern Durnath’haminaan. This is Nehris, third matron of-” Solas launched into the monologue of titles and formalities that seemed to dominate his speech today, all the while scanning for Yedor, whose absence was suspicious. It was rare to find one twin without the other.

Kharis, knowing full well who had joined them, slipped from her mother’s arms and addressed him directly, “A pleasure to meet you, Tarlen Hador. In the interest of prudence, however, they were actually my associates.” She bowed low but held eye contact. Unlike with Ghellise or Valoriel, however, it was calculatory; studying his unfathomable eyes. “Hahren’s wolves are better behaved.”

A hum that might have been a chuckle once rumbled in Hador’s chest, “Not the ones I met. Speaking of, who are we wearing today, brother?” He mused, gesturing to the pelt draped over Solas’ shoulder and the ornamented wolf skull at his brow. “The coloration looks familiar. One of the original six?”

“Actually, the pelt is a more recent generation but skull is one of the six.” Solas replied, “Harilla. The pale one, she got into the cellar just after first proceedings, remember?”

A puff of air escaped Hador’s lips as they parted into an almost full grin. “I do, I do. I never knew wolves could get drunk the same way we do. Sylaise was furious.”

“That raises a question, Tarlen,” Cardis tersely interjected as though he had been holding it back for some time. Nehris laid a hand on his arm but he ignored it. “Forgive me my candid tone, but I am truly at a loss; why wolves?”  
Out of the corner of his eye, Solas saw Kharis shift to cover the scars on her hands left by frustrated or confused teeth. Some fresher than others.  
Solas furrowed his brow but before he could respond, Hador lifted his head to his full, imposing height and softly asked, “Why not wolves?” The surprise was only on Solas’ face for a moment before he slipped back into polite interest.

“They are ill-mannered, short-lived, and prone to violence.” Cardis stood his ground, though his tone never passed into disrespectful.

“As are many soldiers,” Hador retorted, his voice was calm but dark like stagnant water “but I surround myself with them all the same.”

“A soldier takes direction, A wolf takes suggestions.” Cardis shot back.

It didn’t surprise Solas that Cardis was skeptical of his methods. Most people were, they just weren’t brave enough to say so to his face. However, Solas couldn’t imagine why Hador felt the need to intervene here. The line of questioning was far from intense or personal. Perhaps a hair accusatory but nothing Solas hadn’t encountered and promptly handled before. In fact, the last conversation Solas had with Hador, himself, had been infinitely more accusatory and heated. Although, Yedor had been present then. Perhaps the twins were not as in agreement as he once thought? Maybe this was Hador’s way of showing his support?

The conversation had grown tense much faster than Solas had anticipated. So he addressed Cardis before Hador could present a rebuttal.

“I understand your concern,” Solas began with a pointedly accommodating tone. Hador frowned at him but remained silent. “You entrusted your kin to me, and I sent her home with new scars. Any parent would be understandably distressed. So, indeed, Why wolves instead of a gentler social animal, say, sheep? In short; sheep are stupid. Not only are their minds easier to manipulate but you would recognize a fake sheep long before a real one would.”

Cardis was unimpressed, “If intelligence is the factor to be overcome, wouldn’t it be more impressive to manipulate the mind of a person?”

“Actually, father,” Kharis tersely answered before Solas could make a sound, “people are infinitely easier to fool.”  In the next instant she simply blinked out of existence, eliciting a gasp from not only her parents but several previously uninvolved bystanders. “We tend to rely on our sight and hearing while our other senses fall by the wayside.”

Her voice began to slip through the crowd, though none could sense a body to be producing it. Despite the growing murmor of confusion, Banise and Rasha seemed unfazed; in fact, didn’t even look up. A slow grin spread over Solas’ face. Proud that Kharis had such a flair for spectacle. He leaned toward Hador and whispered, “pay close attention, this should be-” before he noticed that Hador, too, had vanished.

His broad shoulders were turned on the scene and weaving away through the crowd, toward a side hallway.

Should we follow him? Kharis’s voice sounded in his ear while her showy monologue continued echoing around the quieting crowd.

Perhaps. Can you manage a switch right now?

You expect so little of me, Hahren.

He felt her invisible backside press against his front with an indulgent roll of her hips. The muscles in his jaw clanched but otherwise he did not react.  
You’ll have to try harder than that to get a rise out of me, Da’len

The night is young

For now, he would have to ignore her teasing, but he tallied yet another offense he would have to remember for later that night.

I’ll signal when I’m in position.

Kharis’ voice had begun to wander the crowd. “… Not to mention our penchant for… altering” A wine stem lifted itself off a servant’s tray and swirled itself around, “our highly intelligent but sadly imperceptive minds.” The wine glass offered itself to an empty handed man who took it with a bemused laugh and a nod.

I think I can keep them going for another three minutes at the most.

That’s plenty of time.

on three?

Yes. One, two…

To all but the most trained eye, Solas blinked and took a sip of wine. Rasha looked up at his face then returned to sniffing the air absently.   
_____________________________________________________________________________

Solas kept his head low, (which, given his stature, was not hard) as he slipped down the same corridor he saw Hador go down. That way he only had to alter the perception of those in his immediate proximity.

He was only a few seconds behind Hador and caught up to him quickly. Thankfully, most of the Evaneuris still did not grasp Illusion magic nor how to defend against it, so Hador’s perception was easily altered. Solas fell in step beside him completely unnoticed.

Hador’s pace was swift and Solas had to nearly jog to keep up with his long strides. His face was inscruitible and somber as it always was as of late. Solas found no clues from studying it. If anything, it just made him sad to look at for too long. Twinges of guilt began to surface.

What was all this suspicion based upon anyway? A warning that even Ghellise thought was paranoid? Did he really think so lowly of his old friend to think him capable of fraternicide? Or did he just think the weight and misery of his circumstance had driven him mad?

Suddenly, fast footfall clattered up an adjacent hall. Solas stepped away from Hador hugging the walls of the corridor, and broadened his perception dampener.

“Tarlen Hador!” A round, haggard man with olive skin and wide-set eyes called as he approached. Hador clenched his jaw and his fists but he continued walking. The Olive-skinned man was persistent and followed, calling his name with increasing volume as he caught up. Hador kept his eyes steadfastly ahead as the tension in his shoulders mounted.

Solas had to stifle a gasp when the man finally came within arm’s reach of Hador, hesitated for only a moment, and roughly grabbed the back of his robes, “Please do not ignore me, Tarlen!” He pleaded.

Hador whirled on the rotund man with a speed and force that made him stumble backwards in terror and instant regret. Hador said nothing as he glowered over the stammering man.

After a moment to collect himself, the man swallowed hard, looked Hador in his fathomless eyes and, trembling, pleaded; “You must reconsider-”

“I must do nothing you tell me.” Hador snapped back.

“We’ll all die!”

“Half my bloody country is dying!”

“But unlike the Sickness, you can help us!”

“I offered you my help. You did not comply.”

“I… I can’t…”

“Then neither can I.”

Hador turned from the man and swiftly strode away, white and aqua robes whipping behind him.

For a moment the olive-skinned man looked as though he might have accepted defeat. but only for a moment before his resolve found him again and he shouted, “It comes for us every month now!”

Hador stopped but did not turn.

“And it takes even more of us than before… the sick and the healthy alike… the children… please… you’re killing us.”

Hador was silent for a long moment. Contemplating, perhaps. But he answered with a dispassionate tone all the same, “You know what has to be done.” He left the olive-skinned man without turning around.

Solas cast a final glance to the man before following Hador. His face was strained, determined and terrified all at once. His eyes wet and trembling in desperation. He stared at the corner that Hador disappeared behind until Solas was forced to abandon him to follow Hador down the twisting corridors.  
———————————  
It was taking too long to get to where Hador was going. By Solas’ calculation, Kharis would only be able to keep the distraction going for another minute or so and it would take at least that long for him to travel back to the greeting hall.

He was just about to turn back when Hador sharply turned into a dark, cobwebbed room deep in the bowels of the Cellar. “Any word yet?” He asked the dark room.   
It answered him in his own voice.  
“They just buzzed in. They’re getting prepped for delivery right now but they say it will probably be another hour before they’re ready.”  
It was actually Yedor’s voice. Solas broadened the Perception damper again and followed Hador into the room about ten paces behind. The room was filled with broken furniture and decor, likely awaiting disposal. In one corner, propped haphzardly against a cracked wardrobe, an inactive Eluvian sat.

Yedor sat in a torn armchair beside it, a single candle illuminated a stack of loose notes, old books, and a speaking stone stacked on a table next to him.

Structurally, Yedor was identical to his brother. Same fathomless, almond-shaped eyes, same high, sloped cheekbones, same full lips, but all Yedor’s features seemed more firmly attached. His cheeks hugged his skull comfortably without looking hollow, his skin held none of the gray that Hador harbored. His hair was braided in intricate designs on the bottom half of his scalp and left free and wild on top. everything from his dress to his demeanor was more vibrant than Hador, which only underlined the latter’s diminished facade.

Hador nodded contemplatively, “You should go join the conference.”

“It’s nothing I’ll miss,” Yedor shrugged. He added, quietly and earnestly, “You should go socialize, I’m perfectly comfortable-”

“People have been asking questions.” Hador cut him off, “It’s one thing the be scarce, quite another to be absent. I’ll recieve them when they arrive. Go now, Solas is causing some kind of scene, nobody will notice you slip in.”

Yedor spat a bitter laugh. “Of course Solas is causing a scene.”

“He even has an assisstant now. you’d think he was charging admission…” Hador rolled his eyes.

“Oh, I’ll warm up my ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ now.”

“Just keep it copacetic out there, we don’t need to be drawing attention right now.”

“Please, I’m at least as talented at being twofaced as you.”

Hador’s face scrunched and he opened his mouth like he intended to defend himself but Yedor waved off his indignance, “yeah yeah, diplomacy, you know what I mean.” He scoffed as he passed his brother on his way out of the room.   
Yedor passed Solas, oblivious to his presence.  
Just then, a quick, ambiguous impulse manifested in Solas’ mind. A non-verbal tug that beckoned him back to the grand hall. Kharis must be running out of energy if she couldn’t even conjure a full sensation. It had been more than three minutes.

Solas shot a last glance into the room, Hador was approaching the Eluvian, magic just beginning to arc betweeen his fingertips. But there wasn’t time to watch him, and Solas took off at a sprint, casting a wide deafening spell around him to muffle his loud footfall.

He passed Yedor in the same junction that Hador had left the olive-skinned man. The man was gone.

Though Yedor heard nothing as Solas passed him, a breeze shifted his hair. Solas did not look behind him, but if he had, he would have noticed when Yedor looked around for the source of the movement, and caught a flicker of green robes as they whipped around a corner.


	3. 3

_“Medic! Man down! Someone! Anyone!” The voice had grown hoarse but still, it screamed. Though he could barely hear it anymore. The rain fell silent on his face, the sky grew dark as night. The rock that had been digging into his side no longer seemed to bother him. Nither did the cold. Calan’s hand was warm over his. “You! Brother, help me carry him!” He heard Calan rasp. footfall vibrated under his back as it approached and just as quickly departed. “The day is lost! So is your friend!” the footfall called as it faded to silence. The last of the light flickered to blackness._

_**We lost… they’ve all left us.** His own voice sounded so alien now. **The Shepherds left us… we can find the rebels… we can be free…** _

_Calan made a strangled noise and squeezed his hand hard._

_**As soon as the sun rises… We’ll find them… Just like you said...** _

_Calan shook violently and whispered something, but it was too quiet to hear. The warm grip on his hand loosened. Suddenly the warmth was gone._

_**Calan?** _

_He groped in the darkness, his fingers closed around fabric that was roughly torn from his grasp.._

_**Calan!?** _

_He screamed the name till his lungs collapsed and long after he could no longer hear his own voice. There was no answer. He was alone in the dark and the still and the silence._

_Alone, and gone. And none would speak his name again. For all that he suffered, for all that he struggled against; Ultimately, he was exactly as insignificant as they always promised he would be. He would leave this world exactly as he found it: Oppressive and cruel and cold._

_The injustice of it all sparked in the stagnant void. Sparked and flared and grew into a boiling, rageful thing that stepped from the blackness; forming and collapsing and re-forming. A muzzle lined with rows upon rows of shifting teeth spoke in the darkness:_

_**Tell me, are you satisfied?** _

_When he answered, the sound reverberated in his chest and rattled his lungs open._

_**No.** _

\-----------------------------------------------

 

“I’ve returned.” Solas projected to Kharis, “Can you manage a switch back?” A negative pulse answered him. He took a moment to assess the room. What had started as a small demonstration had caught the attention of the entire room. The band had even fallen silent to watch the spectacle.

 

It was a small wonder that Kharis had _any_ energy left, she was conjuring a shared vision of a small aviary above the heads of the crowd. Brightly colored songbirds in ornate cages preened and sang contentedly. hundreds of them suspended below the floral terrace. At the bar, however, the image of Solas had frozen, unblinking, midway through a sip of wine. Enraptured though the crowd was, someone would soon notice. Thankfully, Solas knew exactly where this metaphor was going.

 

“You see, a caged bird sings because it thinks itself free.” Kharis’ disembodied voice continued, echoing without a source. At the bar, Solas blinked and swallowed his wine. “And why wouldn’t it? It has flown to every corner of the world it knows. In much the same way, we are also caged. Limited by our narrow view, trapped within our own skulls, manipulated by faulty senses…”

 

silk scarves drifted down from the floral lattice and draped themselves over each ornate birdcage. The chirping fell quiet. “Illusion magic grants me the power to look into other cages, to choose which cloth to drape over them.” Kharis’ voice was quiet and intimately close in the ear of everyone in attendance. So close that many gasped and jumped in surprise, whirling around to find no one.

“And which doors to open”

The doors on all the cages sprung open and the hall erupted in a flurry of birdsong and tiny, brightly colored bodies. The flock hurtled toward the grand fireplace and collided against the mantle in a small burst of light and feathers till none remained, and Kharis stood atop the mantle, amid gently drifting down.

An amused murmur shuddered through the crowd followed by rousing applause. Kharis smiled her rehearsed, controlled smile and bowed low. No one noticed the drop of blood that fell from the tip of her nose as she righted herself again. However, she staggered slightly and smoothly sat at the edge of the mantle instead. She sniffed another drop of blood back into her sinuses.

 

“Lords and ladies, Tarlen and tarlan, I do hope that I have, at the very least, entertained you. but, if I might be so bold,” Kharis leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, her voice smaller but echoing more tangibly now. “I would also hope that you may have _learned_ something tonight as well, and now know when to doubt your senses and when to listen to the song of a bird with a larger cage…”

 

Kharis jutted her chin to Solas at the bar, flanked by Banise and Rasha. However, when the crowd looked, they found Kharis standing between her two wolves, raising her glass in response to herself who, when the crowd looked back, was now Solas smirking proudly at her.

 

The final trick revealed, the crowd burst into gasps of surprise and awe. Kharis was almost swallowed by the surge of people scrambling to her, looking for more information on how that trick worked. The greeting hall buzzed with excitement and the band took up their instruments again. As music and conversation filled the hall once more, Solas was comfortably forgotten atop the mantle. He closed a hand over his mouth and nose in an effort to hide the bleeding by looking contemplative.

 

“Impressive show.” A rough but melodic voice sounded suddenly close in his ear, fluttering against the short hairs on his scalp. Solas jumped and cursed under his breath. He really should have grown used to Mythal startling him as a greeting by now.

 

She was not uncommonly tall like Ghellise but she was perhaps as muscular. Her almond shaped eyes were heavily hooded and a deep, dark green. Her black hair was straight and silky and woven into her sleek headdress. In certain lights, it reflected a deep coppery sheen. Her features were uncommon. Not particularly outlandish, Solas was sure he had to have seen similar ones _somewhere_ before but he could not place where. Her face was sharp and harsh but streamlined. All of her was streamlined. Every one of her movements was efficient and smooth but not the least bit hurried. like an otter through water.

 

Sorion was the only one who had known her before the Harillan war and even he admitted that he had no inkling as to her true origins. Solas, along with everyone, had theories but little else.

 

Hador figured Mythal was the jilted harem wife of Anaris, who bid her time gathering intel on the Tyrants while waiting for the inevitable revolt. Valoriel liked to imagine that Mythal was the very first elf; sprang into existence with no context nor parentage, and only intervening when none else could. Garros predicted that she was just a woman born into a time of great injustice with the will and strategic talent to right wrongs. Solas was sure that she was the last of some long-dead and scattered lineage, perhaps from a time even before Tyrant memory.

 

Mythal seemed to revel in her own mystery. But considering that some of the Evaneuris had known her for well over five thousand years now, the enigma of her origin had grown stale and most simply accepted it as something she would likely never reveal. So Mythal took her surprises where she could create them; holding onto information until the reveal could make the biggest impact, dropping biting wit where it was least expected, and even startling unsuspecting friends with child-like glee. but even these eccentric little pranks had become old hat.

 

Mythal laughed gleefully as she settled on the mantle beside him. “So, where were you off to that you let your _student_ entertain us?” Mythal asked with a smug grin.

 

Solas rubbed casually at his nose and shrugged, “what do you mean? I’ve been here...”

 

“Don’t think too hard, pup, you’ll hurt yourself.” a deep, gravely, voice rumbled from Solas’ other side. Sorion was clamoring up the rough hewn stone of the grand fireplace. Wherever Mythal was, he was never far behind, even if it did take him a moment longer to arrive.

 

Sorion came from a long lineage of monstrously large men. He was very nearly 8 feet tall and claimed that he was short for his bloodline. At six feet tall, Solas knew he was the outlier for short elven men but even so, he had a hard time imagining someone taller than Sorion. As such, Sorion often found the world to be designed just a few inches too low for him. He had to duck as he settled on the mantle to Solas’ left side, lest the hanging, flowering vines obscure his vision.

The right side of Sorion’s face was lined with pale scars against his golden tanned skin and half his ear was missing. He wore his tawny hair very closely shorn to his scalp , displaying where his scars stretched into his hairline. (Solas suspected it was in direct defiance of the current fashion for men to wear their hair long.) He bore these scars well, never made him look damaged, only tough. And he was.

Sorion was more open about his past than his wife. Under Tyrant rule, he had been a simple farmer. Of what, he could no longer say, yet another memory lost to the ages. But he still remembered what it was that made him rebel. Slavers came for his brother, whom even he described as a large man but defenseless. “Some people just never get any violence to them.” Sorion would shrug casually. “But I had plenty enough violence for the both of us.”

Slavers did not take his brother that day. They never left his fields, as their bones remained buried there still. More came to avenge their brothers, and his crop was well fertilized that year. Word spread and soon his story became a common one. And there were infinitely more farmers than there were slavers, and infinitely more slaves than there were Tyrants.

Sorion’s brother did not survive the war, was caught in the night by a sudden raid where he died along with hundreds of other wartime casualties. Somewhere, his bones also feed one crop or another, though Sorion would never know which one.

 

Sorion told this story, unabridged and blatant, to everyone exactly once. And it said all there was to know about him.

 

Finally settled into his cramped perch, Sorion pulled a cloth from his deep blue robes and handed it to Solas, “Clean yourself up, you look like you’ve been into Val’s stash.”

 

“Oh I’m not anywhere near perky enough for that…” Solas quipped as he held the cloth under his nose.

 

“No, just foolish,” Mythal chided, “You keep this up and eventually you’ll blow something _important_.”

 

Unlike most of the Evaneuris, Mythal understood Solas’ Illusion magic, and the toll it could take on him. Until very recently, she may have understood it better than he did. These days, however, it was only a 50/50 chance for her to see through it. Considering Mythal’s innate power, Solas decided that was a significant enough success rate. The only problem is that, if she so chose, she could also point out the holes in the illusion to anyone. Start tugging at the threads and unravel the whole thing.

 

Which meant that, 50% of the time, Sorion would also see through his illusion. It was bad enough having one… Now he suffered both their concern. Trapped by injury and flanked by nagging on either side. He begrudgingly took their tandem attack while he waited for the bleeding to subside.

 

“So where was Hador off to that you so desperately needed to follow?” Sorion fired from one side.

“And why is it so important that nobody see you?” Mythal shot from the other.

“You were never one to get competitive with the Compendium…”

“Unless this is sabotage of some kind...” Mythal allowed a hair more glee to leak into her voice than she intended. She loved the competition of the Compendium.

 

For half a second, the thought crossed his mind to tell them. About Ghellise’s suspicions, about the back room with the Eluvian, about the olive-skinned man and his unheeded pleas for help.

 

_“You’re the dividing factor here…”_

 

Solas frowned and looked out over the crowd. He found Yedor laughing and smiling charmingly as he was passed gracefully around the dancefloor. His face looked alien in the singular. But even in the plural, the two faces could hardly be called identical anymore.

 

Sorion lost the mischief to his voice and quietly asked, “Is this still about what happened last-?”

“It’s been a terrible age for him.” Solas murmured finally. He sniffed and checked the bloodied cloth. The bleeding seemed to have stopped. “I worry when I see him alone. Even if he wants to be.”

 

Both elder elves laid a knowing hand on his shoulders. “As do we all.” Sorion nodded, “but you cannot allow yourself to be caught in the undertow of it.”

 

“All we can do is offer love. It is up to him to accept it or not.” Mythal squeezed his shoulder once and did not linger on the subject. “Beyond that, your performance gets sloppy when you push it too far.”

 

“Excuse you, that performance was flawless.” Solas brandished the bloodied cloth at Mythal indignantly. Mythal pinched the filthy thing between her thumb and index finger, “Your illusion was

 _nearly_ flawless…” and flicked it over her shoulder, where it disappeared into thin air. “Your _performance_ was lackluster at best.”

 

“ _Oohhhhh_ is that so?” Solas scoffed, “Well then go on, tell me how flawed it was. Give me your professional _critique._ ”

 

Mythal leaned back to ask Sorion, “How much time until dinner is called?”

Sorion checked a crystal timepiece and put it back in his lapel pocket, “I’d say two or three minutes. Plenty of time for a lecture.”

“True, true, but let’s ask the audience for more grounded, relevant feedback.”

“I agree, wonderful wife of mine, GHEL! GHEL, COME SETTLE A MATTER FOR US!” Sorion cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled across the hall. Solas saw Ghellise look up in dismay and do her best to slip through the crowd discreetly before her swarm of nobles got a good read on her position. She arrived in front of the roaring fireplace and called up to them, “Keep it down, will you? I only just lost them!”

“Don’t worry, this will be brief,” Sorion assured her.

“In regards to Solas’ spectacle, this evening,” Mythal began, a schadenfreude smile tugging at her cheeks, “When did you know that he and the junior Ise’Man’Vir had swapped faces?”

Ghellise shrugged casually, “Same time as everyone- right after the bow.”

“What! How?” Solas snapped, “I recreated her face down to every freckle”

“Yeah, but the voice got a little sharp toward the end, ” Ghellise pointed at his knees, “B’sides, ladies don’t sit with their bits all open to the breeze like that… gets dry.”

 

His knees instinctively snapped closed.

 

“Thank you, dear, you can scurry back into hiding now.” Mythal smiled. Ghellise started off in the direction she arrived from but Mythal made a warning noise and nodded her head in the opposite direction. Ghellise nodded her thanks and took off in the recommended direction.

 

The second the crowd swallowed her, Mythal whirled on Solas in triumph, “And that is pass number FOUR!”

Solas gasped indignantly “That…! That’s cheating!”

Sorion threw an arm around his neck and pulled his face close and whispered, “That’s _winning_ da’len!”  Solas cupped his hands to his mouth and called “Ghellise! Ghel, come back!” Sorion pulled him farther into the headlock.

 

“Accept defeat with grace!” Sorion roared with triumphant laughter, “Pay what you owe!”

“There’s still time-!” Solas insisted before the bells sounded, signaling dinner. Solas let out a defeated growl despite the laugh threatening on the edge of his voice. He fished his bid out of his lapel pocket and slapped it in Mythal’s outstretched palm. Only then did Sorion release him from his headlock and ruffle his hair.

 

“Despair not, pup,” Mythal smirked as she counted the coins in her hand, “look at this as a _learning_ experience.

 

“you’re both filthy cheats, that’s what I _learned_ ” Solas grumbled, running a hand through his hair to tame it once more. Though a grin pulled his cheeks taut regardless. The band began playing the Elvhenan Castle Walk and the crowd began finding their seats.

 

In the minutes before the bells rang, the serving staff had swiftly and discreetly outfitted each of the scattered, recessed seating areas with round tables and set them. Each one featured a communal platter of pastries and ornate incense burners that seeped a calming haze over each pit. Spirits and wisps flocked to the clouds of powder blue smoke, their colors drifting to gentle pastels once within them. Purposefully casual and intimate in contrast to the rigid, hierarchical customs that surrounded Tyrant ceremonies.

 

Sorion slid himself off the edge of the mantle and only dropped a short distance before weightlessly floating up to Mythal and offering her his hand. “Shall we?” he asked with a charming, almost boyish smile. She smiled back, an uncharacteristically sweet smile that was reserved just for him and no other, and took his hand.

 

The two of them danced through the air as the band played, twirling and looping around one another as they drifted toward the stage, attracting wisps that trailed lazily behind them. Massive and rough and scarred though he was, Sorion could be shockingly graceful when the mood took him. Individually, Sorion and Mythal were clearly powerful and wise and imposing figures. However, it was only when they were together that the word “beautiful” could truly be applied to the full extent of the term. Solas had never been much for romance stories. Still, the sight of one brought a smile to his face.

 

When their feet lighted upon the stage, Solas was suddenly jolted with the realization that Kharis was still at the mercy of the masses at the bar. He dare not try to send a long-distance projection now, not with both their minds fatigued as they were. Lacking Sorion’s mastery over the physical world, he was infinitely less graceful when he slid off the mantle and only just managed to catch himself on a cushion of air before landing. His knees wobbled a little but held. He was able push against the tide of people back toward Kharis without too obvious of a limp.

\---------------------------

 

He found Kharis exactly where he had left her, talking spiritedly to her parents. As the crowd dispersed and more space became available, her movements became wider, her paces took her farther before returning to her origin, as though her limbs longed to stretch farther than they could reach. Banise and Rasha paced around at her flanks, tails swatting the air and steps high as they leapt out of her way. Kharis spotted him as he approached and shot him a wide grin. He saw her hug her parents and plant a kiss on each of their cheeks before swiping her drink off the bar and jogging up to greet him, miraculously without spilling a drop. Banise and Rasha trotted after her, lips pulled back in excitable panting, mirroring her energy. “Ah! just in time!” She called cheerfully.

 

“Kharis! Are you alri-” Solas had begun to ask before she slipped her free arm around his and planted a kiss on his cheek. His eyes flicked to her parents. Nehris was still in the middle of waving goodbye, her arm halted above her head and slowly wilting, a smile still frozen on her face while she decided which expression to replace it with. Cardis didn’t look entirely different, just somehow more… _still_. There was no way they did not just see that.

 

An arm-in-arm escort might be on the edge of appropriate; charmingly rustic. But a kiss, no matter how chaste, was peculiar at best, lecherous at worst. He would have a hell of a time explaining this away, and that was assuming they were the only ones who saw it.

 

If Kharis noticed, she did not let it slow her momentum, and swept Solas up in her brisk pace toward the Evaneuris’ table. He dare not turn to look back a second time.

 

“Kharis…” Solas said quietly, deliberately, as they walked, “Why did you do that…?”

 

“The birds?” she tilted her head into a shrug, “You’re probably right, it did get out of hand. I didn’t mean for it to get so-”

 

“We will get to that in a moment,” he interrupted her but tried to keep his gait and face relaxed, “but first… actually, how is your headache?”

 

Kharis looked puzzled for a moment, “It… isn’t? It faded almost immediately, what do you mean?”

 

He shot her a questioning look but she didn’t seem to think she should have one.

 

 _Are you feeling alright?_ Solas projected to her after a moment.

 _Better than alright!_ Kharis answered, _did you see what we pulled off just now? You should’ve seen the look on my father’s face…_

_I did see the look on your father’s face, there might’ve been more graceful ways to reveal this…_

_Reveal what? This is why they sent me to you!_

“What!?” the word fell out of Solas’ mouth before he could catch it. A few people turned as they passed. Solas wrangled his face back to a polite one. Kharis stared at him, utterly bewildered, but kept walking.

 

 _What do you mean ‘what?’ I came to learn Illusion magic, I proved that I had made good academic use of the time!_ Kharis answered, her face was beginning to betray the tone she was silently projecting.

_And then you demonstrated your use of extracurricular time!_

_What?_

_You kissed me!_

_When?!_

_Just now!_

Despite his dully aching headache, Solas projected his memory of what just happened to Kharis.

Her steps began to slow as she watched the loop of images from Solas’ eyes. Her eyes widened in horror and she whipped her head to look over her shoulder, but thankfully her parents had left by then.

 _WHY WOULD I DO THAT?!_ her panicked thoughts echoed painfully in his skull.

_I haven’t the foggiest!_

_I didn’t even think about it! It just happened! How do we explain that?!_

_I don’t know. We’ll come up with something after-_

 

The band stopped playing and Mythal and Sorion bowed to one another before approaching the front of the stage, hand in hand. “Good evening, lethalaan,” Mythal began, “and welcome to the 27th Centennial Conference...”

 

Solas and Kharis were the only ones left unseated. They rushed to take their seats with the rest of the Evaneuris and their guests. The area was only slightly larger than the others, positioned in the middle of the room, and furnished exactly the same. Ghellise saw them coming and made space between herself and Garros.

 

Garros didn’t seem to notice that Ghellise had moved, and continued talking in her direction about… whatever it was he was on about. Solas wasn’t proud of what he did next: he deftly swapped positions with Kharis so she would be the one stuck with the task of listening to Garros’ incessant stream of esoteric chatter.

 

Kharis noticed and shot him a glare. He pretended not to notice. He had a headache anyway. One that was mostly her fault, he reasoned.

 

Garros was a brilliant artificer, but nearly insufferable in any given social setting. He was polite and kind to the best of his ability, but he rarely picked up social cues, even the most obvious of them. His conversation was like reading the index of a particularly dry instructional manuscript. Except it wasn’t you reading. Instead a very long-winded goat was bleating the words at you agonizingly slowly to ensure that it pronounced everything properly.

The good news was he never took the glazed look in Solas’ eye as an insult, primarily because he never noticed it. Even having seen the relationship develop over the centuries, Solas still didn’t understand how Garros and Valoriel fit together so well.  
  


“Oh, you must be Kharis,” Garros noticed as they approached, “we were just discussing mana optimization for crystalline diodes in mid-level artifacts I follow the Mori’i theorem of course but I’m confident that there’s more to be learned from the Galvanizzi school than modern times gives credit for-”

 

For half a moment, Solas began to regret pawning him off on Kharis; but then Garros over-enunciated Gal-van-EETS-ee and his guilty conscience cringed itself to death.

 

Kharis had her diplomat face on in the blink of an eye. She settled herself beside Garros with a dimpled smile, and kept it even while having to push Rasha back from trying to join her in the pit. Solas dropped in beside Ghellise. Mythal’s opening speech echoed around the hall but Solas wasn’t listening to the 27th re-wording of “Fuck the Tyrants, look at all the reasons we’re better.” Instead he was looking around at who was and was not present.

 

It wasn’t uncommon for the Evaneuris to bring a guest to the Conference, sometimes a Lineage head they wished to honor or occasionally a lover or friend. But almost always someone who would be on stage with them at some point, usually during the Compendium.

 

Around the table today there was: Ghellise and Veya, an old friend of Ghellise’s that Solas had met, drank, and woken up hungover with many times before; Two Lineage heads from Varalaan who had accompanied Mythal and Sorion before, but Solas couldn’t think of their names; an unfamiliar round, pale man sat next to Yedor; Hador was nowhere to be seen, leaving a conspicuous gap where he and another would have been seated; Valoriel sat beside a particularly cute child, whose curly hair had once been tamed by fine ribbons but that time seemed to have passed hours ago; Garros sat beside what appeared to be the girl’s father, who looked equally awed and uncomfortable in his silken robes, though he softly scolded his daughter when she picked the last shred of ribbon from her hair. Solas noticed he wore gloves, despite the temperate sea air.

 

For those who did not know Yedor very well, the smile he shot Solas as he sat down was warm and genuine. So only half of the table felt the instant chill in the air when the two locked eyes.

 

“... As we face this 27th age together,” Mythal wrapped up, “we will do so with pride, knowing that we made this world for ourselves, and none can take what we have built.”

 

The hall erupted in applause as Mythal and Sorion thanked the crowd and headed toward their seats. As they settled in, the serving staff came with the first course, served communally in the center of the table. “So,” Sorion addressed the table, as he took from the communal plate “I see some new faces, today-” he gasped playfully and threw a hand to his chest as his eyes fell on the little girl, “but none so lovely as this one! What is your name, miss?”

 

The girl’s cheeks flushed a dark red as she hid her giggles behind both hands. “Her name’s Marissa, ma Tarlan.” The girl’s father answered for her, “I’m her father, Athel. We’re very grateful to be here.”

 

Mythal nodded solemnly, “As we are grateful to have you, as I hear, we very nearly didn’t.” Athel nodded, his hands clenched once and relaxed. Solas noticed two of his gloved fingers did not move. “The winters were… we are very grateful indeed, ma Tarlen.”

 

Valoriel patted Athel’s arm gently, “I’m honored to have helped.” She assured him, “And your family showed me great hospitality while I perfected my formula. You will never have to worry about harsh winters again, so long as I live.”

 

Athel smiled wearily, “You’re too kind, I know our residence was nothing compared to what you’re accustomed to-”

 

“Bah,” Ghel scoffed, “Val- I mean, Sylaise is no fussy tennant. So long as you keep a consistent supply of… er, _wine_ around she’s plenty happy.”

Ghellise winked across the table at Valoriel, who kept her composure and raised her glass with a controlled smile, though her smile conjured the image of panther teeth. “Well, we all need a little pick-me-up sometimes… especially in particular company”

Mythal laughed and raised her own glass, “I will drink to that!”

Suddenly something clicked and Solas deftly slid his hand between Kharis’ lips and the chalice she was about to drink from, smoothly guiding the glass back to the table while everyone else was distracted drinking.

 

“Ghellise,” Solas began, his tone calculated, “did I have this particular vint at your estate once? perhaps three ages ago? the night we took down that dragon that had been giving the northern shore such trouble?” Ghellise shot him a knowing smirk over her glass as she remembered exactly the night he was referring to, along with his veiled question. “The very same! though I think this batch turned out a little better.”

 

“Ah.” Solas said, his tone conversational, “I thought it tasted familiar.”

 

Mythal had turned her attention to Yedor and his unfamiliar guest. Solas vaguely heard her ask where Hador was but his attention was focused on Ghellise.

 

 _You gave Kharis ShemVhen!?_ Solas flooded Ghellise’s head with his outrage. So much so that she had to disguise her startle as a cough.

 

 _Anaris’ salty asshole! I hate it when he does that!_ Solas heard her think to herself, _one of these days he’s gonna pop in here and see something he can’t unsee-_

 

_I can hear you! think quieter!_

 

Garros was still talking to Kharis, patiently waiting when she answered someone else at the table and resuming his detailed lesson on diode functionality when she stopped contributing to the rest of the conversation. Kharis was saying something to the pale man Yedor was with. Her leg bounced agitatedly and her speech was much faster than normal. He tried to listen when Ghellise’s voice in his head drowned out all other sound.

 

_That doesn’t make any void-sucking sense! If you don’t want to hear what I think then get out of my head!_

 

 _First you must tell me exactly how much ShemVhen is in this wine._ Solas turned his attention back to Ghellise.

 

 _What’s the big deal?_ Ghellise scoffed _she’s an adult, it’s legal. Everyone in the Arlathan uses! Unless she’s some kind of straight-edge-_

 

 _We smoke_ **_SpadeLeaf_ ** _in Radalas, Ghel!_

 

**_oh…_ **

 

 _Not everyone just_ **_expects_ ** _extra drugs in their alcohol! This is why dosing people_ **_isn’t_ ** _funny!_

 

 _Don’t panic,_ Ghel insisted _Veya has some leaf back in the apartments. We’ll just get her some and she’ll mellow right out_

 

_I don’t see how the Leaf in your apartment is going to help us here!_

 

_Oh she can hold out till the end of dinner! look at her, she’s fine!_

 

Solas did look. Kharis’ leg had stilled. She smiled and listened politely to conversation around her. Flashed a smile, turned, nodded, took a sip of wine. flashed a smile, turned, nodded, took a sip of wine…

Banise and Rasha were nowhere to be seen.

 

_Ghel, look again._

 

_I’m looking at her right now! she’s just a little perky!_

 

_Perky is she? How do the wolves look?_

 

_What wolves? They’re not even-_

 

Solas felt the realization settle in before Ghellise’s face showed it.

 

Solas sent out a small pulse, hoping he’d find her without having to physically look and arouse suspicion. clearly Kharis was broadcasting an illusion, it just wasn’t strong enough to fool him… which probably meant-

 

 _So you didn’t send her?_ Mythal’s voice whispered at the base of Ghellise’s skull. Ghellise noticibly jumped at the unexpected intrusion

 

 _How long ago did she leave?_ Solas asked desperately.

 

 _You can’t talk about this in your own brain?_ Ghel snapped.

 

 _perhaps… twenty breaths ago?_ Mythal ignored her protests

 

Solas mentally recounted his heartbeats to approximately 200 ago.

 

Yedor had left maybe 10 heartbeats before then. Kharis had gotten bold and gone after him.

 

_Mythal- could you-_

 

_I’ve already got one set, just go, but when you get back you’re telling me what’s going on._

 

_Ghel can fill you in_

 

_Good, I’ll get Sorion in here-_

 

 _NO MORE PEOPLE IN GHEL’S HEAD!_ Ghellise insisted, the indignance bleeding out onto her face. But it was too late.

 

 _What’s the drama?_ Sorion’s voice sounded just a hair too enthused.

 

Garros was still telling Kharis about Diodes. He failed to notice when she froze and flickered briefly before nodding, smiling, and taking a sip of wine.

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Once Solas was far enough from the main table, he didn’t waste energy casting a full illusion. Instead simply walked slowly but deliberately out of the greeting hall. Setting a swift but casual pace so as not to attract attention.

 

The back corridor was empty save for a few servants, whom he smiled at and nodded a passing greeting to. As per usual, as long as he walked with purpose, none gave him a second glance. He had a good idea as to where he was going to find Kharis and her wolves, he just sincerely hoped she had enough sense left to keep her distance.

Sure enough, Solas found Banise and Rasha sitting impatiently outside the doorway to the room he had followed Hador to nearly two hours ago. The perception damper they had draped over them was spotty at best. their agitated whining and pacing would’ve been audible if not for the low hum of voices already coming from the room.

 

“The halls are clear, ma tarlan.” a woman’s voice said, “We’re ready to move it-”

“ _him_ ” A twin’s voice quietly corrected. It sounded hoarse, sluggish, tired, Solas supposed it must be Hador. He cast a light sleep spell over the wolves to keep them calm as he approached.

“Y-yes, of course. Forgive me, slip of the tongue.” The woman apologized, though not convincingly.

 

Solas sent out a perception damper for himself and, stepping over the barely conscious wolves, slipped into the room unnoticed.

 

The Eluvian was no longer active, and so the room was much darker than it was before. From what Solas could make out; there were now no less than six bodies milling about the room. Four were tending to a tall, narrow box covered in a thick tarp; two stood in front of it. Hador was one of the two in front of the box. Yedor was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Kharis.

 

Already, A dull ache pushed on the back of Solas’ eyes. He wouldn’t be able to keep up both the illusion and the sleep spell for long. Kharis couldn’t be too far, Banise and Rasha had been at least attempting to sit still when he arrived so she had obviously told them to do so. Her word was only law so long as she was close by.

 

Solas ducked inside the room and behind a rat-chewed dresser so he could drop his perception damper. The ShemVhen would only keep the headache at bay, making her think she had more in reserve. Kharis would be running out of mana any moment now. He had to find her before that happened. He slipped behind another pile of broken furniture slightly closer to the action.

 

Hador and the young boy parted and a servant approached with a file. “Newest trials are in, ma tarlen,” the servant pointed to the file, “It should drop ‘im right quick but can’t seem to get the opiate to fire in time to numb the worst of the pain-” Hador abruptly ushered the servant farther away from the others; just on the other side of the junk pile Solas was hiding behind.

 

“ _First of all-_ ” Hador hissed, “you will use the appropriate tone when speaking. This is an _elvhen life_ we’re dealing with. Second-” his tone lightened but only slightly, “If it must be administered in two stages, so be it. Whatever it takes, I will not abide his suffering… I loved the man once.”

 

Solas’ heart stumbled over it’s skipped beat. He felt fear lingering impatiently just outside his mind but hurt and betrayal currently dominated his attention. He didn’t have time to linger on it.

 

Hador strode up to the box, his hand raised. Unfortunately, just then Kharis came around the other side of the box, her face inches away from his glowing fingers. Given her expression, she hadn’t expected him to be there. She drew a sharp breath but didn’t have time to release a scream.

 

There wasn’t time to calculate the risk; Solas dropped all other spells and put everything he had left into a perception screen. Hador’s hand rested securely over Kharis’ face but he did not seem to notice. Thankfully, Kharis knew enough to stay still.

 

Solas’ vision grew dark around the edges as daggers pushed on the inside of his skull. Fooling Hador’s mind into ignoring the direct input it was receiving was almost more strain than Solas could handle, having to also conjure what he thought the tarped box would feel like was almost certainly going to cause some kind of damage soon. Dark figures rose and shifted to life just outside the room.

 

Hador’s hand glowed briefly and his expression changed. He was testing the mana charge of something, though Solas had no idea what. He couldn’t imitate what he couldn’t imagine. Hador shifted his hand and pressed it harder into Kharis’ face, trapping her painfully against the mysterious box. She winced and screwed her eyes shut but said nothing. The front of Solas’ robes were suddenly wet and his mouth tasted metallic but he couldn’t afford to check what had happened. His spell was faltering already. Hador noticed something was off, and was scrutinizing the anomalous patch on the tarp.

  
Solas could no longer tell where the other bodies in the room were. His own senses faded as he drained the very last dregs of his mana. He had no other choice, he began gathering a fireball as a last-ditch distraction. Something glanced heavily off Solas’ chest and shattered his spell. A scream sounded from somewhere. Utter chaos followed shortly thereafter.


	4. Chapter 4

_ Rain stung his face as he rocketed across the battlefield. Everything was a blur of desaturated greens and putrid reds as he was flung forward by… something. His mind was sluggish, hazy. Anything and everything that came into view passed before he could begin to register what it was. _

_ He vaguely wondered what beast he had been flung over that he was traveling at such speed. When he looked down, it was his own legs pistoning furiously under him.  _

_ There was no telling how long he had been running. If his limbs fatigued or ached at all, he was entirely numb to it. When he fell or tripped over a corpse, he rose without pause and carried on; called to the horizon by some deep, primal instinct. When he tried to think of where it was he so desperately needed to be, the only answer he could find was “not here.” _

 

_ He had the odd feeling he had forgotten something important, but couldn’t remember what. _ _   
_ _   
_ __ In the distance, he saw figures picking their way through the broken bodies. The two tallest of them turned toward him and motioned for the others to stop. Their skin was velvety dark and their eyes a pale amber.

_______________________________________________________________________

  
  


His mana drain stoppered, Solas’ senses began to return. The smell of blood and fur hit him first, then the cold stone against his cheek. He didn’t know when he had slumped over to the floor, nor how long he had been there. The screaming hadn’t stopped, but now he could hear snarling and high-pitched yelps. He pushed himself off the ground, a long string of thick blood connected his face to the floor.

 

His vision was dark and blurry around the edges so at first he wasn’t sure who had grabbed his arm and pulled him hastily to his feet. When he looked, a copper-red wolf muzzle was clamped on his wrist and pulling insistently. He almost began to resist when, upon closer inspection, he realized the muzzle was actually a long-fingered hand. Kharis. He crawled toward the copper wolf, trying to stay low, under people’s line of sight. The door was only a few feet away. If he hurried, they could both escape before being seen.

 

His blood-soaked hand slipped inches from the door and he landed on his shoulder painfully. However, it turned him just in time to see a tawny blur catch the tarp in it’s teeth and tear it from the box. Which, as it turned out, was less of a box and more of a cage. Containing an emaciated man, unconscious and slumped against one wall of his very constrictive prison. Black hair hung in stringy ringlets over his shoulders. Though his limbs were completely lax, they did not have room to crumple all the way to the ground, so he remained upright.    
  
The tarp crackled with energy when it was pulled from it’s ward. Everything froze. All eyes fell on the emaciated man in tense, dreadful, silence. A low, dry groan rattled in the man’s throat. Slowly, he twitched awake. It was only then that Solas could see his face.

 

His eyes were sunken and cloudy and yellowed. His black lips were withered and receding over his teeth. If not for the rapid rise and fall of his ribs, he would have been a corpse. Solas realized in horror what he was looking at. He was infected with Diminishing Sickness.   
  
Suddenly the room sprang into action again, people rushed to find rods to re-cover the cage without having to get close. Shouting instructions at each other in terse tones to cover their own panic.

The sudden movement jolted Solas from his horror and he scrambled to the door to join Kharis. They rested there for a moment. Recovering mana while they could. Solas felt Kharis send out a pulse to call Banise and Rasha back. He peeked into the room to see if they would heed her.

 

They did, of course, Kharis was right, they would follow her anywhere. Just before Solas turned to escape with them, He saw a child, not even close to adolescence, approach the bars of the cage. In the chaos, nobody had noticed him. Solas waited impatiently for someone to pull him back.

The Diminished man in the cage wheezed and lifted his gaze. He turned himself to face the approaching child and slid his thin arms between the bars of the cage. The boy would be within his grasp in moments. Still, nobody saw.

 

Foolishly, and before he had time to talk himself out of it, he used the mana he had just regenerated to flash an attention beacon in the general area of the room. All at once, every head in the room turned to the boy. Even Banise and Rasha skidded to a halt and turned to look. The boy, however, looked past them all and looked directly into Solas’ eyes. He stared blankly, almost disappointed, until Hador scooped him up and swiftly carried him far from the Diminished man’s clutching fingers.

 

Solas reached out and grabbed both Banise and Rasha by their scruff and pulled them the rest of the way through the door. Reunited, the four of them set off at a sprint.

 

“Did you just see-?” Kharis panted, “I mean,  _ here? _ With all these people? What are they  _ thinking _ ?”

“I couldn’t  _ begin _ to imagine anymore…” Solas shook his head incredulously. He led Kharis and her wolves deep into the service corridors and storage cells until he found the funerary decor. A section of the cellar he was confident wouldn’t see much traffic tonight.

 

The four of them slipped into a dark, cobwebbed room. Exhausted, Solas slumped against the door, drenching them all in pitch blackness. For a moment, they sat, listening to each other’s labored breathing, and processed what they just saw.

“They really intend to kill me…” Solas realized numbly. 

“But… why... make it... so complicated?” Kharis’ voice wheezed beside him, “To risk… infecting…  _ all _ of Arlathan... for a grudge… with  _ one _ man“ Solas shook his head, “I don’t know… I can’t-pbbbbth!  _ Off! _ ” A flat tongue had dragged across his cheek and flopped inside his mouth as he was speaking. Solas shoved whichever wolf it was away and wiped his face, spitting the taste of dog breath out of his mouth. However, the beast was persistent and lapped insistently at the air in front of his face. “Fenedhis,  _ Rasha! _ Banise! Whoever you are-!” A small light flickered to life in Kharis’ hand and Solas was able to more effectively push Banise away. With the new light, he could see that his hands and robes were soaked in blood.

“Void swallow me whole...  _ look  _ at you!” Kharis gasped, “This… this is all my fault!... What was I  _ thinking _ -”

“No,” Solas interrupted her, still fighting to keep Banise off him, “this is  _ not _ your-” his voice trailed off when he finally managed to get a good look at Kharis’ face. His arms fell and Banise resumed licking the blood off his face and neck.

 

Her skin was pale and clammy and her eyes were rimmed in red, her lips were white. Her body wracked with tremors. He had caught his breath by now but she panted and wheezed as though she were still running. “We need to get you to Ghel… Now.”

Kharis’ breaths became faster and panicked, “What? Why? What’s happening to me?”

Solas forced his expression into a calm one and gently took Kharis’ hands, “You’re having a reaction to ShemVhen-”

“ _ ShemVhen???” _ Kharis shook her head, “But I don’t- Solas, you  _ know  _ I don’t bother around with the powders, how-?”

Solas sighed apologetically, “I know. It was in the wine Ghellise gave you. She meant it as a gift; to welcome you; not realizing that you might not have the same  _ tolerances- _ ”

“I think I’m going to be sick…”

“It couldn’t hurt…” Solas looked around the room, futily looking for something to help her. Of course, there was nothing. “Come.” he said, pushing himself up to unsteady feet, “this will not get better with time-”

“No!” Kharis said, “As far as anyone knows... we’re both still at dinner. If we’re seen... the twins will know...”

 

She was right. By the time they emerged from the cellar, dinner would be over. The halls would be packed as people filed out either to retire to their apartments or to find another, less regulated party in the city. Both of them had exhausted their mana, it would take hours for either of them to recover enough for a reliable perception block for that many people, and even then, perhaps for only minutes at a time. If they left now, there was no way they wouldn’t be seen. Not to mention their appearance was suspicious to say the least.

 

Kharis’ hands shook in his. Sweat was beading on her brow. Her red-rimmed eyes darted around the features of his face, watching him turn the decision over in his head. She had maybe an hour left before she lost consciousness, less if he couldn’t keep her calm. If they waited for the halls to clear, she would be beyond help. 

 

“It doesn’t matter. They saw Banise and Rasha,” Solas reminded her, “Nobody else keeps such company.”

“But I didn’t leave an illusion for them at dinner… If we stay scarce, then we can say we weren’t with them-”

“There’s no chance that illusion is still present- it won’t make a diff-”

“Mythal said she’d keep it up for me if it fell.”

Solas cursed Mythal for her mischevious love of drama.

 

Her face was graying by the second and her fingers were cold. Banise nervously whined and licked the sweat from Kharis’ brow, Rasha agitatedly trotted around the room in a constant loop. Mythal was no fool, when Solas didn’t return with Kharis, she would know something was amiss. Find a reason to excuse their illusion-selves. Likely send Ghellise or Valoriel to escort them so there was an alibi. 

 

“You’re right. The story must be that there are two wolves loose in the castle, and we are not with them.” Solas said,  _ almost _ hiding the nervous quiver in his voice. Kharis turned his face to hers to make sure he saw when she told him, firmly, “I’ve had the practice. I can keep myself. I’m ready. I just need the spell.” Solas sighed in resignation. Kharis gave him a small, reassuring smile. He pressed a kiss to the inside of her wrist.

“Ghellise.” Solas said, “Just remember; You need to find Ghellise. She’s the only one who would know how to help you.”

“Ghellise… Ghellise… Ghellise…” Kharis chanted quietly as she began stripping herself of silk and finery.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The city proper in Arlathan was always abuzz with gossip and music the night of Commencement. Those who attended could leave their wallets at home. In every bar and brothel, the common folk paid for any need they might have in exchange for eyewitness accounts.

The respectable stories; Mythal’s commencement address, Sylaise bringing a laboring family as her honored guests, the philosophical debates waged; were always told first, to keep up appearances of propriety. But these were not the stories that garnered drinks. The people wanted scandal.

 

So, this year, nobles rushed through all their tales of progress and politics to spin the scene of Solas and his up-and-coming apprentice creating a spectacle like none had ever seen. Some swore they had seen them steal a kiss (the nature of this kiss ranged from a charming peck on the hand to a lewd groping behind the bar). But it was the Wolves who stole the show. After such a spectacle, seemingly praising their loyalty and obedience, the beasts slipped their master’s control and wrought havoc on the servants in the middle of dinner.

 

Reports on their antics varied depending on who was telling the story.  Lady Ter’Prean swore she saw them having a tug-of-war over a raw steak in the library. Meanwhile, Lord and Lady Le’laal saw the tawny wolf staggering through the residential corridor, drunk and whining pitifully. However, the entirety of the kitchen staff agreed that the pair had been raiding the butchery at the time. Bloody paw prints were found in the last places one expected: in forgotten hallways and six feet up window curtains and eventually on the front entryway that led out into the street. Any of these stories were entirely plausible.

 

Barkeeps began setting out bowls of table scraps and ale so they might lure the beasts to their establishment. At first, out of concern at hearing the black one may be injured… or simply had dirtied his paws on raw meat. However, after many sightings and failed attempts to administer first aid, it simply became a game to see where the beasts would show up next. Crowds cheered on the rampage whenever they saw a black and tawny mass of fur rocket through their street. 

 

Much later, when all but the most dedicated of night owls had retired to their quarters, Valoriel heard a scratching at her apartment door. Confused, she opened the door for a second time that night. Banise and Rasha, lacking any semblance of etiquette, roughly brushed past her and trotted around her apartment like they owned the place. Both of them were filthy. Rasha’s silk scarves hung in muddy tatters around his neck, Banise had lost his entirely. They both left muddy paw prints in their wake. Which was strange, considering the twin sets of dirty paw prints pressed into the carpet  _ ahead _ of the new arrivals.

 

“Hey, Ghel…” Valoriel called as she processed her deja vu.

“Yeah?” Ghellise answered from the guest room. Banise froze and perked his ears toward the sound of her voice.

“Are Solas’ beasts  in there with you?”

“Yes... why?”

“Because they also seem to be out  _ here _ with m-YOU GET OUT OF THERE! “ Valoriel shooed Banise away from her open luggage, but not before he snagged a scrap of cloth in his teeth. Valoriel shrieked in outrage and threw the first thing her hand landed on, which happened to be her own speaking stone. It shattered on the wall above Banise’s head just as he pulled the article of clothing free and galloped toward the guest room.

_ “I swear on  _ **_creation_ ** _ I will skin you alive-” _ Val growled, chasing after him. 

 

A silver-blue light filled the guest room and blinded her for a moment. When her vision cleared, Solas was tugging her stolen house robe over his bare shoulders and Banise had disappeared. Curiously, his muddy pawprints remained.

Solas strode up to the blanket in the corner, where the first Banise and Rasha lay, asleep. This version of Banise retained his silk collar, whereas Rasha was naked. Ghellise was smoking and reading in an armchair beside them.

“How long ago did you put them under?” Solas asked, kneeling in front of Rasha. Ghellise looked down at the unexpected voice and nearly inhaled her pipe when she finally processed what she was looking at. 

“Fen _ edhis, _ you look like shit!” she choked, “naked, anemic, shit!”

“Val! How long-”

“Creators  _ above _ , Sol!” Valoriel gasped when Solas turned to her. He was pale and dark circles had formed under his eyes. Dried blood still clung to his throat and chest. A slow line of fresh, wet red ran from his nose to his chin, sticking stray auburn hairs to his face.

Solas held a hand to calm her, “Yes. It’s bad. I know-”

“Where have you _ been?” _ Val shreiked

“Is it foxy boxing season already?” Ghellise asked, clearly less concerned than Valoriel.

_ “How long ago?” _ Solas persisted.

“I don’t know…” Valoriel shook her head, bewildered, “maybe three or four hours ago?” Solas sighed in relief. Some of the tension drooped out of his shoulders as he laid a hand on Rasha’s head.

“We couldn’t get that one to drink anything.” Valoriel explained, “Poor thing was wheezing but he wouldn’t relax so we just- Oh, come  _ on _ , Sol! Not on the bed!”

Solas had scooped the unconscious Rasha into his arms and, ignoring Valoriel’s protests, laid him on the bed. The sound Valoriel made when he threw back the sheets was something between an indignant gasp and a whimper of horror. 

“So… Where’s the girl?” Ghellise asked. Solas didn’t answer, just covered Rasha with the sheet and laid his hands on either of the wolf’s ears. He exhaled slowly and closed his eyes. Ghellise huffed and threw her arms, prompting impatiently for an answer. Solas’ brow furrowed and his jaw clenched, trying to block her out.

“Hey,  _ You _ made it sound like she was gonna bottom out on us.” Ghellise pressed, irritated. Rasha- the one with his collar still attached- leapt onto the bed and flopped down next to his oddly clean twin, lips pulled into a wide grin as bhe panted.

“Is…  _ that _ her?” Valoriel asked, suddenly distrustful of her own senses. Her face struggled over whether to be furious if it was another animal on her linens, or to be a good host if it was actually a guest. If Solas heard her, his face didn’t show it. 

“Oh, it totally is,” Ghellise chuckled, looking closer at the clearly ecstatic wolf, “Look at her. That’s a ShemVhen smile if I ever saw one… havin’ the time of her- ”

Energy crackled between Solas’ fingers and ran through the sleeping wolf’s fur. Each hair began to recede and thin out, paws stretched into long-fingered hands. Whiskers receded into coppery hair that flowed from her head. A clammy, ashen, unconscious Kharis now lay where there was once a wolf. Her modesty preserved by the sheet but otherwise naked.

 

**_“Oh.”_ ** Ghellise suddenly realized she had vastly underestimated the situation. “VAL! Get the-”

“I’m on it!” Vaoriel called from the kitchen, already assembling the necessary glassware.

Ghellise all but shoved Solas to the side as she prepared for the next steps. Were she in less of a panic, she might have noticed how easily he was knocked off balance. He righted himself on the nightstand as Ghellise rushed to take Kharis’ vitals and preemptively roll her on her side.

 

“For fuck’s  _ sake _ , Solas!” Ghellise snapped, “We needed to have started this shit  _ hours  _ ago! If I hadn’t put her under-What the  _ fuck _ were you thinking? Waiting this long-” Solas’ face twisted and paled slowly as his rage dawned on him. He expected to be upset tonight, but simply could not believe the path taken to get him here. 

“You  **cannot** be saying that this is, in  _ any  _ fashion-”

“Sol, honey,” a sugary voice called from the kitchen, “could you come help me with something?”

“Well you sure as shit didn’t  _ help  _ the situation!” Ghellise snapped, “If this girl fuckin’  _ dies  _ because you wanted to secure an  _ alibi- _ ”

The air crackled with electricity and a fresh current of red dribbled down Solas’ chin.

A clatter and a crash chased the Ozone scent from the room. Solas and Ghellise both whirled around to see Valoriel standing over a mess of broken glass.

“Oh, damn, we need a new vapor flask!” Valoriel chirped, stubbornly upbeat, “Solas, how about you go down to the lab and grab one from Garros?”

“Why wouldn’t  _ you _ go-” Solas began to protest, but Valoriel was already physically removing him from the apartment.

“Quickly now, she’s counting on you!” 

“Yeah,  _ Hahren _ will make it all better- _ ” _ Ghellise spat.

In the next instant he found himself outside the apartment. Valoriel’s infuriatingly chipper voice bled through the door, which had already closed when Solas turned around to revolt.

_ “And don’t you dare let Garr know what’s happening here!” _

The lock clicked with finality.

\--------------------

 

“That is my wife’s robe.” Garros said, in much the same way one might deliver a weather forecast.

“It is.” Solas had, in fact, not noticed what article of clothing he had borrowed until Garros said this. Thankfully, the halls were empty enough by now that he managed to avoid being seen. The Lab was also empty, save for Garros and his Speaking Stone, softly playing an array of Garros’ favorite songs.

Many would describe Garros’ taste in music as “violently dull.”

 

“You seem to be bleeding.” Garros reported, interrupting the fourth verse of “Ahn’tuash Da’Vher”

“If my wife has injured you. I apologize for her behavior. She can be possessive of her things.”

“Not this time, Garros.” Solas clarified evenly, doing his best to pretend that every second he spent here didn’t make him want to burst into flames.

“Oh good.” Garros nodded, still studying the bizarre figure before him. 

 

_ “Ahn’tuash da’vher? WHOOOooOOOOOWhOOoooWHOOOOOOOah” _

 

“It was a vapor flask- I believe she said.” Solas reminded him.

Garros nodded and wandered away to a closet and shuffled around in it for a moment before returning.

 

“This is not what I need…” Solas said, struggling to keep his voice even as he looked at the hand towel Garros had given him.

“Yes it is.” Garros said matter-of-factly as he returned to the closet, “Your face is disgusting and I am made very uncomfortable by it.”

 

_ “AHN’tuash da’vher? WHOOOoooOOOOOWhOOoooOWHOAHOAAAAAH” _

 

While his first instinct was to be offended, Solas couldn’t deny he looked grisly. He plodded over to the shop sink and rinsed the layers of dried blood from his face and neck.He turned off the water and waited for an awkward moment, alone in the harshly lit laboratory. 

_ “Ma da’vher, ma da’vher, Ar lath ma!” _

 

It suddenly hit him what was happening.

“I have remedied my appearance…” Solas called. Only then did Garros re-emerge with a replacement Vapor Flask. Solas nodded his thanks and turned to begin his sprint back to the apartment.

“Solas,” Garros called. Solas turned around, failing to mask his frustration.

 

_ “Vin! Eolassa ma!” _

 

“I know some men would express jealousy or suspicion at finding another man wearing their wife’s clothes.” Garros continued, failing to register Solas’ obvious impatience, “But I trust you.”

“Truly, I just needed-”

Garros held up a hand, “I asked no question. I require no answer.”

Solas nodded mechanically. “Thank you, Garros… Is that all?”

“Tell my wife I won’t be home till morning.” Garros called over his shoulder, turning back to his work station, “perhaps later, even. I must ensure the crystaline matrix is stable enough for the sheer wattage of mana flowing through the facet capacitor-OP!” Garros slapped a hand over his mouth, despite a sly smirk creeping over his face. “You  _ almost  _ tricked me, pup! Almost!”

Garros continued revealing false information on his compendium presentation to an empty room for a solid half hour.

\---------------------------

 

Valoriel opened the door before Solas’ hand touched the handle. She plucked the glass flask from his arms as he passed and smoothly set it on the hallway table. He didn’t slow his momentum until he reached the guest room and Kharis.

 

She lay in the bed, dressed in a loose nightgown, eerily still. Her skin was a warm coppery color again. Her closed eyelashes twitched gently as she slept. Banise and Rasha had tightly tucked themselves against her flanks, heads on her thighs and hindquarters under her armpits. They rocked slightly with her steady breath.

“She’s fine.” Valoriel squeezed his shoulder, “turns out I had a spare…”

“You’ll be the end of me, Val.” Solas squeezed her hand appreciatively.

 

Banise opened one eye at the sound of Solas’ voice. His tail flopped groggily around the bed and against Kharis’ chest. She stirred. Her lips were a little light still, but they parted into a weak, dimpled smile.

“Izzat ‘im?” She slurred, her native accent returning, “Can I lookit’im yet?”

Ghellise looked up from her armchair in the corner. She and Solas exchanged a look, acknowledging each other’s anger, and agreeing to discuss it later.

“Well,” Ghellise answered , “He’s not bloody anymore but his face is a complete mess.”

Kharis’ eyes fluttered open, red and dilated. She squinted against the light from the kitchen. She smiled. “Nah, that’s just wot ‘e looks like, innit?”

She snorted when her eyes adjusted.

“Though, ‘may be time to let yeh robe out a little. ’s looking a little tight in the bust...”

Valoriel chuckled lightly but suddenly recoiled from Solas’ shoulder. She had only just realized the tensile strain Solas’ shoulders were putting on her robe. “Oh, but seriously, take that off!” She snapped, pulling at the robe’s lapel. Solas snatched it away from her.

“Would you have me traipse around in the nude?!”

“We’re all adults here-”

“So…” Ghellise began, “are you gonna explain  _ why _ you’re out picking fistfights wearing nothing but illusions?”

“‘Wolves don’ wear clothes.” Kharis told the ceiling, “That’d be silly...”

 

Ghellise tilted her head, processing. She squinted at the paw prints that lead to the middle of the room, where they were replaced by the soft imprint of feet. Solas saw understanding bloom on Ghellise’s face. “No fuckin’ shit…”

Solas rounded on her, “Not another word!”

“What? What is it?” Valoriel asked

“That’s your compendium submission, isn’t it?!” Ghellise rose from her chair, a grin spreading across her face.

“This was an emergency.” Solas negotiated, “To tell my secrets now; you’d be taking  _ advantage _ of a crisis!  _ One that you manufactured! _ Where’s the honor in that?”

“What?! No fair!” Valoriel huffed petulantly, “You both know what mine is!”

“Hah! ‘honor’ he says…” Ghellise chuckled to Kharis.

_ “Everyone  _ knows what yours is!” Solas shot defensively, “  _ ‘invention of the blasted century’ _ remember?”

Kharis giggled and pulled from the water pipe on the nightstand.

 

“The paw prints, Val!” Ghellise pointed insistently at the floor, “there’s still  _ four sets _ of paw prints!”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Solas, is that real dirt on my creation-damned floor?”

“It’s real dirt from actual wolf paws! Not Illusion,  _ transfiguration!” _ Ghellise laughed triumphantly, “You can change the shape and function of a living body…  _ Without interrupting its current functions _ -Holy  _ shit _ , Solas! How the  _ fuck-?” _

“Hard part’s rememberin’ not ta lick y’self once yer wif people again…”

 

The room paused at Kharis’ comment. She simply took another drag from the water pipe, oblivious. “Don’ reach, anyhows. Y’just end up gruntin’ a lot an’ pullin’ sumfin’ in yeh back...”

“... What manner of leaf do you  _ grow _ down on the steppe?” Solas asked Valoriel with just a hint of admiration. She punched him in the arm.

“Ow!”

“No, Fuck you! You don’t get to just jumble our understanding of the physical world and then change the subject.  _ How-? _ ”

“It’s… delicate…” Solas sighed, taking Ghellise’s seat beside the bed, “it doesn’t consume much mana as long as you’re within a standard of deviation for certain biological factors. For example, changing a mammal to a mammal of a similar size, is really only shifting the position of existing components. The hard part is the precision necessary.”

“If  _ one _ thing doesn’t line up properly…” Ghellise shook her head, horrified at the thought, “You’re always  _ milimeters _ from paralysis! Or worse”

“Like that time yeh hand lost circulation and turned all horrible colors!” Kharis added, voice muffled by smoke.

Valoriel’s admiration was quickly turning to concern. “But… you’re casting a spell like that  _ on yourself? _ What happens if you botch putting...  _ you _ back together?”

“That is why I decided to take on an apprentice.” Solas smiled at Kharis on the bed.

“Lucky for him, ‘cause I wasn’t leaving ‘till he took me in anyhow-” Kharis preened. She had always held an odd pride about the borderline criminal way they had met. 

But that was a story for another time.

“Val, I think I heard a seam pop,” Solas interjected hastily. Valoriel whirled on him in abject horror.

“Think Garr would mind if I borrowed something of his?”

Val waved her hands impatiently, “yeahyeahyeah whatever, he won't even notice, just go!” 

Solas nodded his thanks as she shooed him out the door. “Oh! And Ghel! You go too!” She suddenly added. Ghellise and Solas shared a wary look.

“He’s a big boy these days, Val,” Ghellise assured her, “He can keep it from getting caught in his lacings all by himself.”

“Ha-ha. You’re hilarious. Go.” Val commanded.

 

Ghellise relented. It was easier than trying to argue. Val shoved them both into Garros’ room and closed the door behind them. They stood in silence for a moment. Deciding if they really wanted to address each other just then.

"She really hates it when we fight, huh?" Ghellise offered.

“So, they’re sleeping in separate rooms now?” Solas declined the offer. “That seems… healthy…” he said, not facing Ghellise. He headed toward an unkempt closet.

“Yeah, I asked her about it,” Ghellise sat on the corner of the bed, happy to avoid the dragon in the room, “She said it was just because his sleep is so irregular, they didn’t want to interfere with one another and everything’s fine.”

“Do you believe her?”

“Not even a little.”

 

Solas picked through the closet and dressed behind the partition without another word to Ghellise. Once dressed, he headed straight back to the door.

 

“So, what’d she find for you anyway?” Ghellise asked, just a whiff of bitterness to her voice.

Solas paused before he got to the door. For a moment, he debated where to even begin. Finally, he sighed.

“We need Mythal.”


End file.
